


I still put you first (and we’ll make this thing work)

by Inspirationfeedscreatiivity



Series: Love isn't always on time [6]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Body Paint, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Grief/Mourning, Heartbreak, Hurt/Comfort, Long-Distance Relationship, Mutual Pining, Romantic Fluff, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-07 06:28:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 26,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6790213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inspirationfeedscreatiivity/pseuds/Inspirationfeedscreatiivity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What´s the magic cure to finding your way back to each other? Time. At least that´s what Clarke and Raven try to give each other, and themselves. Question is, will things go back to what they were or can they change?</p>
<p>Clarke and Raven´s POVs</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. September - December

**Author's Note:**

> We´re finally here, this is the end of bff au. Thanks to everyone, you might have been few but oh so supportive, who stuck with this story and shared your thoughts on this mess. Like you´ve probably noticed this part has been split up into two chapters, hopefully the second one will be finished sooner than later. Hope this last piece of the puzzle offers you the end you wanted! Comments are always welcomed. -Em

_September_

Your name looks small, insignificant, as you sign off on the last piece of paper. It´s only that; a piece of paper. Still, it holds a significance, this moment weights heavy and will continue to do so for a long time, because you made a decision. A decision that might just as well turn out to be the wrong one, but at least you made a decision. Good or bad. And that in itself was right. 

You are sure of that.

You lean back, one hand reaching automatically up to run through your long dark hair. A signature and that's it; it's yours. The thought pulls a tender smile to your lips, an even greater smile to your eyes. The realization sinks in slow and deep, settles somewhere in your core and quickly fills you up with something that could only be described as euphoria. A silent euphoria that makes your fingers tingle with excitement. Yeah, that's what it is - excitement. 

“Why were you so hesitant?”, comes Wick´s question, his voice drawing you back to reality.

A small smile teases the corner of your mouth, but you keep it in and shrug your shoulders. He pulls at the corner of the documents and slides them into his hands. You watch as he files the contract and then turns back round to face you, arms coming up to cross over his chest as he leans back against the metal plan chest. His eyes search yours for an answer.

He doesn't understand your silence. Never has. Perhaps it's better like that, even though a lot of unnecessary question could have been answered without words.

“Does it matter? I'm here now”, you tell him with another shrug.

“Yeah. Question is… for how long”, he replies and hitches his eyebrows. You don't have an answer for him, perhaps he knows that, either way he loosens up when you stand your ground and hands over a set of keys to the club. He hums as you weigh the keys in your hand as he walks out leaving you alone in the office. You turn the keys over in your own hand, there´s some weight to them, both metaphorically and literally speaking. It´s good. Not only that, it´s right you think.

Without allowing yourself to think that much about it you jerk your phone out of your back pocket and aim it down to your hand, snapping a picture of the keys. You´ve sent it within seconds and slip the phone back into your pocket. It´s like keeping up with an unsaid promise - to share the little things. 

Even though this little thing is quite _big_.

It's been a month soon. A month of texting and talking, spending far too many hours on Skype doing nothing at all and forgetting time filling up that void in your chest. It feels new. You doubt there will come a day when it doesn't still feel new. And that is alright, as long as it _is_ , as long as it's still there. As long as there is something for you to feel, to reach in for deep within you or reach out over the ocean to touch, it´s okay if it feels new.

That giddy feeling in your stomach is much welcomed and you cherish every moment of it lingering there long after you've hung up.

The course of events during the wedding weekend back home four weeks ago turned out to bring you more painful memories _and_ hope for the future that you expected. And even though nothing really changed after that, your whole life changed. 

The memory of your heart in your throat, the panic flowing through your veins like poison, as her piercing blue eyes met yours still causes you to draw for a new breath. Breathe, one of the easiest things in the world is hard in her company and you've realized that her ability to take your breath away won't disappear anytime soon. 

You don't want it to. 

“Reyes. The first one is here, she looks like a go-getter”, Atom yells from within the club and you roll your eyes. 

“Then go get her”, you yell back, tossing the keys up in the air and catch it with your other hand once before you shove them down your pocket. 

Before leaving the office you pick the blazer of the chair that Wick ceremoniously made you unwrap earlier. You put it on, the black fabric tightens around your shoulders as you roll up the sleeves to expose your forearms. It feels good. Right even. When you walk out to the club, inspecting the decor once more on your way over the dancefloor, Atom´s leaning against the bar with the list of interviews in his hands. He looks up as you approach, his brown eyes taking you in in this new attire and a well too big smirk spreads over his lips. You shake your head at his stupid grin and snatch the list out of his hands. “Let's get this show in road, shall we”. 

“Whatever you say, _boss_ ”. 

You can get used to that nickname. It sounds good coming from him. 

Hell, it sounds good overall. 

// 

You wake from a dreamless sleep to the sound of Bellamy's voice on the other side of your door. His voice is muffled and you can make out anything of what he´s saying. The pillow you've tucked your head under in your sleep doesn't make it any easier. In this more or less awake state the heat and suffocating feeling of pressing your face into the mattress become too much. With a grunt you roll onto your side, pushing the pillow off your head. You peek out from heavy eyelids into the dark room. The only light comes from the sun sneaking its light through the gap between the windows and blinds. Streams of sunlight hit the floor and you let your eyes get used to the reflection that fills up your view before sitting up. 

Your limbs ache comfortably with the sleep that still linger in your muscles. With the heels of your palms you rub as much sleep out of your eyes that they allow, yawning as you fling your legs over the side of the bed. Bellamy's voice is much clearer now, but you can still not understand a single word he says; it all just sounds like mumbles and grunting. Which wouldn't be much of a surprise because he's not much of a morning person, he´s actually even worse than his little sister whom you've had several arguments with before breakfast during the time you've known each other. 

Although, they would both argue that you're the worst. 

The air is humid and a part of you almost miss the winter, or at the very least the coming autumn months. The cold is easier to deal with than this inescapable heath. With a low grunt you leave the bed, ignoring the pair of sweatpants laying in a pile next to the bed and instead pulling on the shirt you stole from Bellamy the other day. It reaches far down your back and covers you up enough to leave the room. As you open the door with one hand, the other warps your body in the shirt tightly. 

The much brighter light in the hallway forces you to close your eyes momentarily when you've gotten the door open enough to sneak out. You´ve barely set a foot out of the room when Bellamy appears from the kitchen, his phone attached to his ear. His hair is ruffled and his eyes are filled with remains of sleep. His bare chest heaves slow and steady, even though his other hand is clenched around the pocket of his grey sweat shorts, revealing that even though his calm breathing he´s holding back anger and frustration. 

His eyes close for a split second and your own wait impatiently for them to meet you. 

The dark bags under them worry you. 

He works way too much and sleeps no more than necessary to get through another day. Something that started off as taking on an extra shift has gradually turned into working twenty-four seven. You´ve tried to talk some sense into him about the matter, but it's all talk to deaf ears. Not even Octavia seems to be able to get through to him these days. He stops in his tracks, his dark brown eyes meeting your blue ones and he mimics a silent ‘sorry’ as if he understands that he's the reason for you being up at this hour. Before you can respond he disappears into his room and you are left standing outside your own. 

The light has done its job by now and your eyes are no longer dimmed with sleep. 

Even though you had just planned on checking in on him and what he was doing this early, you might as well stay up now when you´re up. Although you have no idea what the time is, only that you shouldn't be awake. With slow and somewhat steady steps you make pad into the kitchen, determined to get some caffeine to at least get a kick-start of the day. Thankfully Bellamy has already put some coffee on. 

“At least that's something”, you mumble to yourself with a shake of your head. 

After pouring yourself a cup you leave it to cool so that it´s no longer scolding hot and you return to your room to retrieve your phone. If you're going to stay up you might just as well do some good and go through some emails. 

Especially that one Wells sent you asking about that job you might have arranged for him. You´ve kept up with your promise and even though the number of times you talk each week are fewer, you still talk on a weekly basis and if everything turns out like you hope for he could possibly move out here. It was his idea, to move that is, you figured he'd grown tired of working for his father and putting up with all the bullshit that comes along with it. In the beginning you only talked about him coming down to stay with you, with Bellamy´s approval of Wells crashing on the couch for a while (he laughed when you asked him and you already felt bad for Wells at that point) but after one of the trainees quit at the health centre a spot opened up. It was an opportunity Wells was eager to take, even if it cost him the wrath of his father. 

You're deep in thought when you unlock the phone, you're immediately notified about a new message and you open it without thinking much about out. When your eyes take in the image of a set of keys displayed on the screen you smile. 

**Raven (4:35am): Everything's signed now. Crazy right?! Call me after classes**

That´s another promise you've kept up with. 

One that started with getting in that cab with her, sitting in silence to the airport, just sitting there with her with your hand in hers, fingers interlaced. It started with following her to security, only letting go for a moment to let her get her passport out. It hadn´t been easy to let the wall crumble, but the moment you told her the truth the weight fell off of your shoulders; the truth that you couldn't, wouldn't, let her go without knowing that there's nothing to fight for. 

But there was. 

So it started with tears and fingers interlacing, holding onto each other for a small eternity (and having her back in your arms was like coming up for air, oxygen has never tasted better than in that moment) and then promising each other to try. You thought that it would be hard, that finding a way back to her and into her life would be tough, but since you've already been there all it took was to stay honest. 

And a lot of long hours on Skype. 

The smile on your lips stretches far beyond the corners of your mouth until your cheeks ache. 

**Clarke (6:05am): That's amazing Rae! I finish at three**

You're more than awake when you sit down at the kitchen table next and you're already counting down until you'll hear her voice again. 

\----- 

_October_

The cheers are deafening. They build up at a steady rhythm and erupt at their full intensity, causing the floor to shake and the bottles in the liquor cabinet rattle. It´s been going on for a while now, for as long as your back has been pressed against the wall. The only solitude you've manage to find is in your office, although that solitude does not come with silence. The counting number of bodies in the building has upped the temperature, which explains why you've vacated to the floor below the vent. Your legs are stretched out on the concrete floor, the brace is uncomfortable and your kneecap aches. You try to shift your weight a little to let your left side relax, working yet another fourteen hour shift sure has put a strain on your leg. It doesn't hurt, just aches, the unwanted numbness shoots through your thigh from the knee whilst the rest of your body only hums with tiredness. 

Another cheer rolls through the building, pushing its way through the walls and under the door until it fills up your mind. Soon after follows an even louder one. They melt into each other, run through your body like one wave after another. 

Clarke´s laughter filters out the sound of a hundred voices and you can´t help the smile that spreads across your lips. 

_”You weren't kidding when you said that it would be chaos”_ , she says between uneven breaths tainted with laughter. 

Your eyes flicker to the closed door as another cheer fills up the room. “It's an absolute mayhem out there”. 

She goes quiet for a while, not the uncomfortable kind, just quiet, like she's waiting for something. You missed this, the easy silence that only she can offer you. You still miss it, even though your phone bill proves that you've spent an increasingly amount of time calling overseas, but now it's more of an addiction than a missing piece of your life. An addiction she gladly keeps up with. 

You breathe out slowly, emptying your chest to leave room for the sound of her breathing. Another smile grace your lips when you catch her giggling. Your eyes close momentarily and you head fall back against the wall. It´s like the rest of the world, however small it is in this moment, falls away and all you see is the memory of blue ocean eyes, long wavy locks of golden hair and silky smooth skin. It´s far from real, but it´s a good memory. Good enough to send shivers down your spine when you imagine her rising chest in perfect unison with her breaths. It´s in these moments that you miss her the most, in the middle of everything else, when your mind is filled with musts and needs she still fills up the corners with happiness and longing. No matter what you do, she´s there with you, just like before, only now it doesn´t hurt like it used to. 

_“Do you need to go?”_ , she asks quietly and your lips are once again quirked up into a half smile. 

“No. Not yet”, you murmur and imagine her blue eyes closing to your words. 

It's chaos. 

And it´s _you_ and _her_. And it's everything you could have asked for. 

_”So did you hear about Octavia?”._

“Yeah. She´s gone mad”, you scoff and once again Clarke´s laugh causes your eyes to glimmer with joy. God, you´d do anything to hear that sound for the rest of your life. “Although, I don't know, I can see it you know, she'd look good in an uniform so I guess I´ll support it”, you continue with a proudness to your words. It´s true, Octavia is the picture perfect candidate and when that girl puts her mind to something, she gets it. 

_“Constable Blake”_ , Clarke exhale; that same proudness filling up her breath. Then she sighs and you can´t help the tug at your chest at the sound. _”She's so badass”_. 

“You are too”, the words fall of your tongue without hesitation and they tug at your chest until you let out the breath you've held in. 

_”I don´t know about that”_. 

“I do”, you argue and there´s another sigh coming from the other side on the line, this time it's accompanied by a tender smile. You know it is. “How´s the sketching going?”, you ask, mostly because you won't be able to stand another moment of silence without accidentally saying something you can't take back. Not that you would want to take it back, but once it's out there she'd know and it's too early to for that. 

(She already knows, she just hasn't admitted it to herself yet.) 

_”Not that good. I´m bored with sketching fruit. I need my muse”_ , Clarke replies with a suggestive tone to her voice. 

“Sleeping muse, you mean”. 

_”Peaceful. Beautiful. Angelic. Take your pick”_. 

You bite the inside of you cheek, ears burning as the words settle in your core. You glance over at the clock hanging off the opposite wall; you've been locked away in your small room of solitude for over half an hour. Much longer than you planned, it´s nothing new though - most plans involving Clarke have a way of turning out differently. 

“You're a creep. I should go”, you answer and groan as you get on your feet. The numbness has spread further up your thigh and you cuss under your breath as you massage your knee. You should be used by it by now, still the unwanted feeling makes you reach down to work it out of the muscle. “I´ll call you on my way home?”. 

_”You better”_. 

// 

You´re not good with patience. Well, that's not true, you're just extremely bad at waiting around for Raven to get back to you. It´s been getting worse. Ever since you two started talking she´s become a part of your daily routine and then, without warning, she became more than that. It´s a lot like it was during the year; she's everywhere and nowhere. She's a part of _you_. 

Bellamy hums on something that sounds surprisingly similar to Rihanna´s _Work_ , his thumbs tapping along to the beat in his head on the cart, he only stops for a second as he stops in front of the aisle for snacks. You eye him suspiciously when he continues over to the next aisle, clearly ignoring his cravings for all foods unhealthy. 

“Who are you”, you tease and Bellamy shoots you a look over his shoulder. 

“What's next on the list?”, he replies and nods towards the piece of paper sticking out of your jacket pocket. You hand over the paper and he unfolds it. “Ketchup”, he reads out loud and pushes the cart forward along the next three aisles. 

Without thinking you pull your phone out of your back pocket and type in a new text, you send it with a grin smeared across your face. 

**Clarke (7:56pm): I relish the fact that you´ve mustard the time to ketchup with me**

“Could you ask please ask Raven to stop being so needy”, you hear Bellamy in front of you, clearly sarcastic and unnecessarily annoying. 

You direct your gaze to him and he laughs quietly. 

**Raven (7:59pm): Sorry, wrong number**

You giggle quietly while padding after Bellamy, eyes fixed at the screen as you type in an answer. 

**Clarke (8:01pm): I know you like my puns**

“Do you need this?”, Bellamy asks quietly and you snap out of your bubble. 

Your head jerks up, eyes taking in the sight of Bellamy holding up a tampons with his back to you. A smirk fills up your lips, with a click of your tongue against the roof of your mouth. 

“You know that's not my brand”. Bellamy turns and you shake your head at his somewhat flustered look. For someone who does most of the shopping and also happens to have an extremely verbal sister, he´s incredibly shy when it comes to these kinds of things. 

“Is that a no?”, he asks, the tops of his ear screaming red. You only shake your head and turn back to your phone. 

**Raven (8:05pm): I like you. I could do it without the puns**

**Clarke (8:06pm): :(**

“I'm starting to believe that thing is glued to your hand”, Bellamy comments, you take that as a hint and drop the phone into the pocket of your jacket. 

“You're one to talk”, you counter. 

He sighs, practically halfway to giving up the argument before it even begins. “It´s work”, he replies as you slide past him, one hand reaching out to snatch a loaf of bread of the shelf and other pushing Bellamy's hand off the cart. 

“I know”. You shoot him a pointed look. He only sighs once again and steps aside. “Rent is up next week”, you change the subject, knowing that he won't answer any of your questions even if you pressure him. 

“I´ve already paid it”. You stop in your tracks, confusion written all over your face. He shrugs his shoulders as he explains, “I had the money so I paid. You can take the next one”. 

“I can't figure you out”, you snort. 

“Oh no, I´m too complicated for you, Griff”. 

The name makes you wrinkle your nose. “Stop calling me that, it´s a bird´s name”. 

“How are things going with you two anyway?”, he then asks clearly referring back to his previous comment. You avoid his gaze, pushing the car more forcefully towards the cashiers. “Come on, I'm the roommate, that gives me first-hand information privilege”, he argues, pulling a laughter from you. 

“You´ve already talked to O, haven´t you?”. 

He shakes his head, only to nod a second later. “Yes”, he confirms and you roll your eyes at his childishness. Although, however childish he is, he won't let go of it and nudges your shoulder. “Talk to me”, he says and you know that it's an offer this time. 

“It´s good. We're… friends”, you finally get out and the word ‘friends’ sounds awful linked to Raven after all these months. 

You´re not the only one that thinks that considering the sceptical look Bellamy gives you. “Friends?”. 

“Friends”, you say confirmative and his eyebrows jerk up, hinting his scepticism. “Don't do that”, you sigh. 

“I did nothing!”, he laughs and you roll your eyes once more. 

When he still looks at you with that stupid face you his punch arm. It's practically a reflex, he mouths a silent ‘ouch’ and rubs his arm with a pout. 

“The eyebrow thing you do, stop it!”. 

Of course, you telling him to stop only intrigues him to do it again. You narrow your eyes at him and he steps back, out of your reach, with his hands in the air. He’s an idiot, your very close and trusted idiot, but an idiot nonetheless. Once he lets his hands fall to his sides again you exhale. The words that sit on your tongue demand to be verbalized and so with a deep breath, you tell him, letting the tug at your chest take over for a moment, “I don't want to rush it, neither does she. We're talking and that is good. Really good”. 

“Talking about moving things… forward?”. 

He tries. He really does and that's why you love him. He brings out the best in you and supports you in ways you imagine only a brother can. It still catches you by surprise when you notice that glimpse in his eye when he looks at you at times; it's the same way he looks at Octavia. The only person that has looked at you like that before him was Wells, and it's special, and precious. He is special. 

He nudges your shoulder when you don't answer him and you step towards him this time. You linger by his side for a few seconds, absorbing his comfort. He puts his arm around your shoulders, holding you steady to his side as you stop in the line to the cashier. 

“Come on, Clarke, how long are you two going to put this off. It's been a year. Just be honest about how you feel”, he tells you. 

“She knows”. 

“She knows or you´ve _told_ her?”. 

There's an answer to that question. An answer you rather not let be said out loud. 

His sweet, brown eyes search yours for it. You breathe out heavily. It would be so easy to say it, to Bellamy, hell even to Raven, but you don't want to lose her out of carelessness. Thankfully your phone gives out that familiar ring before you have time to think any further about it and you jerk the phone out the pocket to find a new message. 

**Raven (8:27pm): Fine give me all the puns if it makes you happy**

A warmth spreads through you and your cheeks flash red. It causes you to smile, that kind that is reserved for Raven and Raven alone. You might not be able to say _it_ but nothing's stopping you from saying more than less. 

**Clarke (8:34pm): You make me happy**

You feel Bellamy´s breath on your shoulder when he leans forward to read the text for himself. 

“I'm gonna puke”, he groans and you push the cart forward in the line, that smile spreading past the corners of your mouth. 

\----- 

_November_

She's beautiful. Blurry, but beautiful. You press the heel of your palm into your eye to rub the tiredness out. When you look over at the screen again her eyes are still fixed somewhere above her screen, at the TV, her eyes glimmer in the light projected onto them. You should be watching your own TV and at least _try_ to act engage in whatever is going on, but her eyes got you mesmerized. To be fair you´d much rather watch her than the third episode of Sense8. 

You´ve been doing this for a few weeks now. After some discussion you gave up and let Clarke decide on what series you should watch, she chose Sense8 (very predictable you thought, but still smiled happily) and you´ve watch an episode every Thursday, night for you and afternoon for her. The first one you spent most of the time commenting on the episode and the different characters. The second, Octavia barged into Clarke´s apartment in halfway through (she tried to get out of there but neither of you were having it, she gave up and joined in on the commentary). This time it's much too late and your whole body is buzzing after a long day, and you can't take your eyes off of her. Or more like her eyes. 

It took a solid month before you admitted that they were your favourite part of her body. Their intensity and liveliness have a way of drawing you in, once you're in they hold onto you and you wouldn't want to be captivated by anything else. 

A playful smile pulls at the corner of the blonde's mouth and soon enough it´s displayed all over her pink lips. 

“You know, you should be watching the show”, she points out without looking down at the screen to meet your gaze. 

“Why?”. 

“It´s good and that brunette is really hot”. 

“I like ‘em blonde”, you inform her with a smirk, and _finally_ those blue eyes meet yours. She doesn't look impressed, but the red on her cheeks tells you that she at least heard you. You move around a little until you're positioned laying straight on your back, only propped up with a pillow against the headboard, with the laptop resting on your stomach. Her eyes are still on yours and a shiver down your spin causes goose bumps to spread across your neck, down to your arms. “Hey”, you whisper and a small smile on her pink lips makes your gaze flicker down for a second. 

“Hi”. Her voice is soft and sweet. Warm. Safe. She is safety and comfort, even an ocean away. You can feel it in your veins, how the buzz fades into a humming and then… you yawn. “You're tired”, she establishes and another tender smile meets your eye. 

"I'm fine”, you mumble and she laughs quietly at your response. 

“Whatever you say”. 

“Shouldn't you be watching the show? I thought it was good”. 

Your eyes close for a moment, a short moment. That's all you need. Just to close your eyes for one moment and then you're with it again. It takes a lot more force to open them again and when you do a blue pair of wonders are looking back at you, filled with warmth and something else. You can't put your finger on it, perhaps you don't have to, because Clarke fills in the blanks, sort of, when she opens her mouth next. 

“You're better”, she says and you believe her. 

And you love her. 

God, you love her with all your being. 

// 

Her features are soft. Calm. She's angelic. Beautiful. 

And you love her. 

Her head has fallen to the side and is now resting on her shoulder in an uncomfortable angle. Her neck will ache in the morning, probably her whole back as well if she gets through the whole night sleeping like that. 

“Rae?”, you try and wait for her to react. She doesn´t. “Raven, wake up”, you say a little louder, still no reaction. “Raven!”. 

She stirs awake with a mumble, “mhm”, her head moving back to its previous position. She smacks her lips, one hand coming up to scratch at her chin and then her head fall over to the other side. 

“You should lay down”, you tell her and she nods. Her face relaxes once again and she falls right back asleep. “Raven!”. 

Her brown eyes snap open. You can't help but smile at her confused look. It's incredibly endearing. “Mhm… yeah?”, she mumbles as she straightens up in her awkward position, but just like you predicted her had slump back again. 

“I'm logging off now”, you warn. 

“No… don´t…. Please”, comes her answer with a creased forehead. She seems to get the point of your warning and for a moment you can't see her on your screen, you can clearly hear her grunting when she struggles to reposition herself. When she appears back on the screen she's wearing that old tank top she usually sleeps in and is laying down on her side facing the screen. You figure that she must have placed the laptop beside her on the bed or on top of the nightstand. A sleepy smile is plastered on her face once she snuggles down, her shoulder slumping down with a sigh. “Better”, she mumbles. 

You can feel your own lips quirk up. “Yeah, much better”. 

You make quick work of getting ready for bed and retreats to it with the laptop resting on a stack of books on top the nightstand. It´s probably bordering on creepy, but you can't help yourself (if she was laying here beside you you´d still be watching her), she's too peaceful not to watch. 

Slowly but effectively sleep finds you as well. 

The light projecting off the screen doesn't bothering you, not the way her absence does. At least by keeping Skype on, her face slightly lighten up by her own screen, you can pretend that there isn't much of a distance between you, the distance is merely an illusion. 

\----- 

_December_

Six months is enough. At least that's what you tell yourself. Mostly because you're struggling with keeping everything bundled up inside and if you don´t get _something_ out you might actually explode. Well, not that dramatically, but you do need to tell her how you feel. Once you were sure, like _really_ really sure, that your feelings for her have only deepened you decided that you didn´t want to tell her anything over Skype. You think you owe both of you as much. Which of course was easier said than done, but when Lincoln told you that he expected you to come home over Christmas this year as well an opportunity opened itself up. 

You couldn't get the whole week off, but four days were better than none at all. 

Lincoln picked you up at the airport, literally _picked you up_ and spun you around in his arms. You were happy to see him too, enough to cheer just as loud as he did. He didn't question why he was the one picking you up, nor did Octavia once you walked into their apartment. She only embraced you and scolded you for staying away so long. Her way of telling you she loves you. 

Clarke knows that you're here. She knows and you are longing to see her. Nothing has really changed over the last few weeks, but something _between_ you has changed. In the way that you talk, the way she says your name, the fact that your heart flutter whenever you've gotten a new message. 

You could have gone to her place straight from the airport, but the fact was that you missed your family (the one bound by blood) and no one could help you better with that than Lincoln and Octavia. You figured that that was the best way, big holidays have a way of getting to you and with the limited time you wouldn't want to ruin it by being overemotional. Everyone´s getting together tomorrow for a lowkey party for Christmas Eve, Jasper´s idea, and you know there will be questions. Some you can answer right off hand, others are more complicated; you have questions of your own that you want answered. And only one person can answer them for you. 

Yet, you can't go _there_ with the heavy feeling of missing your parents. 

It´s just not right. 

Dinner and wine are a quick, temporary fix that you welcome with opened arms. If there's anything you've missed as much as the people back home it´s Lincoln's cooking. His cooking, a few bottles of red wine and Octavia´s nonstop chatting are exactly what you need. 

Still, they can't do anything about the need to see blue ocean eyes face to face. 

The happy two practically shove you out the door after you've told them that Clarke´s waiting for you after dinner. They don´t give some big speech, although that would be hilarious, Lincoln only makes you take a cab over to the apartment. 

The cab ride over to her apartment feels like treading water out on the deep end. 

Or standing at the top of a black slope, your heart already in your throat and your legs shaking with excitement. 

Standing at her door, one hand hovering over it, ready to knock, feels like trying to breathe when the air has been knocked out of you. Once you've gathered up the strength, or more like courage, to sound your arrival your head is dizzy. 

It takes a second, a few actually, after she has opened the door before either of you speak. 

She's beautiful. 

Her gorgeous eyes met yours and the rest of the world fall away. Her one hand linger on the door whilst the other has one of the loops in her jeans in a firm grip. Your eyes wander the length of her body, take in every visible inch of her, of her clothing, of her _beauty_. Once they return to her mouth, she's biting down on her lip and there's a tug in your chest. 

You draw for a new breath and watch her chest mimic yours. 

“Hi”, you exhale and a tender smile grows on your lips. 

She breathes out heavily and shakes her head, like she can´t believe that you're here. (You barely do.) “Hi”. 

She doesn't step aside to let you in, instead she surges forward and throws her arms around your neck, your own find her waist and nothing in this world has ever felt as natural as pulling her close to your chest, to breathe in her scent. In your chest something explodes and you feel yourself lean onto her more fully, your nose nuzzling into her blonde hair. 

You hear her voice low and shaky against your neck, “I´ve missed you, Raven”. 

“Me too, love, me too”, you answer and hold to her even harder. Her hands twist in your hair and when she pulls you know that she´s just as afraid as you are. “I'm not going anywhere”. 

“Promise”, she whispers and the sensation of her lips against the skin below your ear sends shivers down your spine. 

“I promise”. 

She sighs happily and loosens her grip on your hair. Still, neither of you let go. You'd gladly stay like this forever, in her embrace for as long as she allows. 

“Clarke, you're shaking”. It's true, she does shake and you step back to be able to look at her. 

“That's because it's freezing out here”, she laughs with her eyes glowing with joy. The worry you felt grasping at your heart fades at her words. “Come in”. 

Once in the apartment you notice the quiet. 

“Where´s Bell?”. 

Clarke shuts the door behind you and slides past you as you make discard of your jacket. “Out. Jasper and Monty took him to some party. He'll not be home until tomorrow”. 

You nod at her explanation. “Coincident?”, you ask half-heartedly, rather grateful that he won't be home for the night even though you've missed his goofy wit and puppy eyes. 

Clarke only laughs and leads you into the kitchen where she points to one of the chairs, in which you quickly sit down. “How was the flight?”. 

“How are you?”, you counter and slides back in your seat. 

She leans back against one of the kitchen counters, her lips forming a playful smile. “I asked you first”. 

“I know”. 

She shakes her head, wets her lips visibly and then gives in with a soft voice (although, she can't hide the bitterness in it), “I spoke with Abby. She's determined to come visit”. 

You sit back up at her name, Clarke´s _mother´s_ name. You still haven´t come around to understanding how their relationship work or if anything has changed since you left the first time. As long as she doesn't tell you herself, you won´t ask. Clarke looks away, fazed by it as well, her index finger poking at a crack in the counter. Her shoulders have slumped down and there's an unease to the way she bites on the inside of her cheek. “When?”, you ask carefully. 

“Whenever I'm free”, she answers, dragging her nails over the crack and then crossing both of her arms over her chest. “Can we talk about something else?”. You nod and avert your eyes from her, because if you keep looking at her when she's upset you won't be able to stop yourself from doing something you´d _definitely_ regret. You have a strange feeling that Abby won´t like you were much. “Or… we could not talk at all”. 

That pulls your eyes back to her and she meets them with a smug look on her face. 

You quirk your eyebrow at her, tempted to simply agree to her suggestion, but you won't be that easy. “That´s a bold suggestion”, you tell her and she shrugs her shoulders. 

“Is that a no?”. 

You don´t let go of her gaze, awaiting a sign of her changing her mind. When she doesn´t you get up from the chair. She presses her lips together, tightly, as you step towards her. The anticipation hangs heavy in the air, maybe it has since you knocked on the door, or even longer than that, and her breathe feels amazing against your cheeks when you've got her trapped between the counter and your own body. Your eyes flicker down to your hands, one after another, as you place them over hers and lace your fingers together. Once blue meets brown again, her lips have parted and you sense her breathing quickening. When you lean forward, connecting your foreheads, she closes her eyes and exhales slowly. You can't close your eyes, caught up in her beauty. She wets her lips before she opens her eyes to meet you again. 

“I´ve _really_ missed you”, she whispers and you believe her, with all of your being. 

And you love her. 

She's sweet and precious, worth all of the pain and suffering, worth waiting, fighting, dying for. She's happiness and ecstasy. 

She is _love_. 

Her breath hitches in her throat when you nudge her nose with your own. Your mouth hovers over hers, drawn in by her hot breath brushing over your lips. 

“Schh, we've been talking for six months, just kiss me already”. 

It's said with ease and butterflies threatening to erupt from your stomach in absolute euphoria before she even touches you. Her touching you will ruin you, that's for sure, and there will be no sweeter pleasure than that. 

Those blue wonders search your brown eyes, she won´t find any doubt, only love and warmth, perhaps she doesn't know how to put words on the first, but the second radiates from you like a bright sun. 

And if you are the sun, she's the moon. 

That first kiss (yes you still count it as the first one) that you shared over a year ago was messy and desperate. It was everything it shouldn't have been and all it could have been under the given circumstances. It would be a lie to say that you haven´t been dreaming of a second one, before and after the wedding, and now, standing right in front of her, at the potential start of something completely new, your nervous. 

And excited. 

And _god_ when she leans in time stops. 

Her lips are soft, hesitant at first, but surely both of you relax into it. Her lips melt together with yours in that one tentative kiss. When you part you catch the smile pulling at the corner of her mouth, so you surge forward to kiss it, only to feel it grow until it's displayed proudly onto her full lips. 

You reluctantly lean back to break the kiss, after the third, fifth, whatever the count is. “That okay?”, you mumble with your lips still on hers. 

“No”, she answers with an even bigger smile, a second later she surges forward to connect your lips again. 

How it all progresses after that is quite simple; she takes your breath away. 

She skilfully presses into you, tilting her head slightly to get a better angle, her tongue brushing against your bottom lip asking for permission. You grant it parting your lips and squeezing her hands. Holding back becomes increasingly difficult when she frees her hands only to fold them around your neck, tugging at your neck and fixating your angle to further deepening the kiss, all whilst her hips buck up against yours. 

A flashback runs through your mind, a suppressed memory of that day, and it feels like déjà vu. Yet, not at all. This time it´s better; it´s perfect. 

This time you hum in response and let yourself fall even harder for the blonde. 

With your hands around her waist you switch places, turning the two of you around with stumbling steps, letting her take the controls, something that she does without hesitation as she presses you hard against the counter, moaning quietly into you. All you can think is that you want to hear it, loud and clear, catch it on her tongue once her body quivers beneath yours. 

She tastes of chocolate and orange. Bright sunshine. Fresh air. You capture her bottom lip, suck hard, release it with a pop only to pull her in again in a heated kiss. The moan ripping up from the blonde's throat, earns you ten nails scratching at your scalp, deep and hard. 

When she pulls at you to follow, you follow, lips never losing contact, breaths hot and desperate once you come up for air. She leads you out of the kitchen, through the hall, into her bedroom. You both stumble over a stack of books, which forces you to break apart for a moment so you won't fall over completely. When you open your eyes you meet hers blown wide, filled with lust and warmth. She eyes you and as if by a light switch those deep shades in her eyes change. Now she looks at you with mischievousness layered with deep within that earth shattering lust. 

She pushes you back until the backside of your legs hit the bed and then makes you sit down. 

"I like that shirt. It looks good on you", she says, voice thick and raspy, nodding to the blue checkered shirt you're wearing. "Take it off". 

You go along, unbuttoning the shirt and drop it next to your feet. She looks satisfied and those hungry eyes take in the new patch of bare skin. The aching bundles up in the bottom of your stomach, how something so painful can feel so good is beyond you, she has barely touched you and you can already feel the tingle in between your legs. When she reaches out, her fingers meet the hollow below your throat and traces your collarbone, one and then the other, causing your skin to burn with anticipation. 

“What now?”, your voice comes out shaky and those blue eyes find their way back to your brown ones. 

"Lay down", she tells you and you lay back, enjoying her dominant side which is one that you've yet to experience. The apartment you shared had thin walls, but you could never distinguish who took the lead, if you're being honest, you felt guilty enough just having to listen to them, contemplating over how dominant or not Clarke was in bed back then was out of the question 

She shakes her head slowly. "On your stomach", she corrects as she steps forward, her knees bumping against your own. 

You bite down on your bottom lip, stomach fluttering under those blue eyes. "How am I supposed to enjoy the view on my stomach", you question smugly. 

Those blue eyes pierce through you as she leans over you, her blonde curls tickling the swell of your breasts. Her lips press against your chin, cheek, temple, before she lets them take yours in a long kiss. She licks into your mouth, dragging the air out of you once again, leaving you chasing her lips once leans back, when she crashes back into you a loud cry rips through you from deep within. 

She leans back with a satisfied grin. 

"Roll over". 

She steps away to give you room, leaving you breathless and aching for more. 

It takes some pushing and pulling until you´ve found a good position, one that Clarke approves of. You're on your stomach, your head resting on your arms folded underneath your chin when she straddles your ass. A gasp threatens to evaporate off of your lips, but you swallow it back down quickly. Her body sinks down over you as she leaves a trail of kisses up over your shoulder blades. Every touch is electric and you breathe heavily under her control. You lean over to the side to get a look of her when she suddenly undoes the clasp of your black lacy bra. 

You catch the glimpse of her eyes taking in your bare back, a hunger radiating from their black centres. 

"Lay still", she commands with a firm hand to your side, pushing you back down flat on your stomach. 

You can only laugh, already on the verge of practically begging if that's what she wants. "Fine", you mumble into the mattress before readjusting under her weight. 

With a heavy exhale from your part her fingers travel up over your back, stopping once they reach the nape of your neck, there they draw circular patterns, small at first, larger by each new circle, soon she has your whole back mapped below her fingertips and you can no longer distinguish the shape of their patterns. 

You get a chance to breathe when her hands leave your skin. 

It´s cold when it first meets your skin, wet and cold. Your reflex is to shift over onto your side to see what it is, but Clarke´s command echoes quietly within you; so you lay still. The cold makes goose bumps appear on your arms, but mostly it´s a tickling sensation. One you've not experienced before, and in the midst of what you've been doing up until now that sensation makes that bundle in your stomach grow harder. 

At the fourth stroke along your shoulders a groan escapes your lips, and you bite down on the sheets. Clarke has already heard you and stops the motion halfway down towards the small of your back. 

"What?", the blonde ask quietly, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your neck. 

"Whatever you're doing-", you start but when she brushes her tongue over the patch of skin she just kissed your voice falls short. 

Fingers come around your neck and brushes back your hair, fixing it behind your ear, and then lips sneak over the shell of your ear. Her voice is low and deep, "is this turning you on?". 

"God", you groan and clench to the sheets, determined to not move even though every fibre in your body needs you to. 

Clarke´s lips don't torture you, she leans back, pressing down over your ass once again as she returns to painting over your back. " _Lay still_ ", she husks and you want to tell her ‘yes’, or ‘please don´t stop’, but nothing comes out but silence. 

(She knows.) 

Once you've become accustomed to the sensation of the brush traveling over your skin you start to relax again, that bundle of aching still very present but no longer painful at the base of your stomach. It's when you relax that time takes out its effect, or rather the lack of it. 

You fall asleep with Clarke still working on your back, taking her time with each part of her canvas, and a smile spreads over your lips. She's safety and warmth. The last thought on your mind before the world turns quiet and dark is simple; this is what coming home feels like. 

// 

You can´t explain what came over you. Perhaps it was the realization that it was actually happening, _she_ was finally back home and in your arms that lit a spark in your mind. You could feel the tingle in your fingers and it seemed to feed on her touch, on how she left you fighting for air even though the only thing keeping you alive was _her_. 

Finishing up the painting on her back sets of a rush of emotions in your body. With a heavy exhale you drag the tips over the one dried up paint, your fingertips barely brushing over her skin. 

It's a sunrise. 

The beginning of something new. 

Moving off of her body feels like letting the cold seeped through the cracks in your heart, the same cracks that only her warmth cam heal. And she has. You never needed time to heal, all you needed was her. 

And here she is. 

The colours look brighter when you step back to let the light fall over her back. You take in the dull image, of the sun and the sea, of her sleeping. She's beautiful and for the first time in a long time you're starting to believe again; believe in love. You made a promise to each other to not let moments go to waste, no matter how important or insignificant they seem, and so you snap a photo of the human canvas, of her beauty melting into the colours of your painting. 

You won't ever do her justice. 

You've tried to paint her eyes, her lips, her _mind_ , but looking at those attempts could never do what she does to you. They could never fill you up with the weight of the world, take a hold of your heart and strip you of every doubt you've ever felt regarding your love for her. Only she can do that. 

You ease back over her body after putting your phone away, careful not to smear the paint or put all of your weight on her back. Your fingers caress her cheek, pushing back a lock of her hair and fix it behind her ear. 

"Rae. Wake up, babe", you ease her out of sleep with a soft kiss to a patch of untouched skin over her shoulder. She grumbles in response and you linger close, your lips brushing over that same spot on her shoulder whilst your fingers move to her scalp. A sleepy smile finds its way to her lips when you start to massage her scalp and soon thereafter her eyes peek out from under heavy eyelids. "Hey". 

"I love your voice", she answers with a husky voice, drawing a laughter from you. Luckily she can't see the blush on your cheeks. "Have I told you that", she continues, and you can't believe it's possible for you to fall even more in love with her smile. 

(It's not possible, yet you do.) 

"No", you whisper, fingers still working at her scalp. "I'm done if you want to see it, or grab a shower". 

She hums when you press down on a particularly sore spot. If you could bottle up any moment in time, it would be this; the sounds of pleasurable pain rolling of her lips, her soft features and the way she knock her head back when you try to pull back your hand. 

"I think... You should lay down", she murmurs and you don´t hesitate for a second. 

You´ve barely laid down, one arm stretched out towards her side of the bed, before she crawls closer to your body. She props her head up on arm, her breath hot and comforting when it hits your bare skin. Those deep, beautiful brown eyes open slowly and take in your gaze. 

"Hi". 

"Hi". Another smile surfaces to play on her lips and you fight the urge to catch it with your mouth, desperate to taste the sweetness of her happiness. Her eyes close again as she breathes out heavily. "I'm tired". 

"I can see that". The tug at your chest increases in force. It's the jetlag, you're sure, that keeps jerking her asleep. She's probably minutes away from falling and even though you don't get that much time with her, watching her sleep is one of the best things to lose time over. Borderline creepy, yes, but you tell yourself that this is what it's supposed to feel like. What you´re supposed to feel when you´re _in love_. You never used to watch Finn, yet again, you already knew that whatever you felt for him, it never came close to what she makes you feel. 

It´s a desperate attempt to settle the carving in your gut, the need to touch her, to have her closer, to melt into her every limb and breath, when you reach out to caress her cheek. She leans into the touch, humming softly as you brush your thumb over her cheekbone. 

"I love you", the words taste new but oh so familiar on the tip of your tongue, like something that has always been true but forgotten in the midst of the world. 

You'll never forget again. 

_Never again._

"I know", comes her reply, followed by a deep sigh. Your chest flare up with warmth at her words, the memory of Bellamy's question fresh in your mind. She cuddles closer into you with a lazy smile filling up those beautiful lips, those piercing eyes of her open slowly and latch onto your gaze with determination. "I love you too". 


	2. January - August

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The months that follow Raven´s visit are shaded by darkness, grief and sorrow, but also love. The kind of love that could help heal the wounds that have been opened, if they let it that is.
> 
> or
> 
> the last chapter of bff au and an end (or beginning) to their story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It´s done. It´s finished. Here you have the very last piece for this part and the end of this long series. I cannot thank you all enough for your support and love! Thank you so much and I hope you enjoyed this time with our precious Princess Mechanic. Comments are as always welcomed. -Em

_January_

The familiar buzz at the cafe has a way of getting your mood on the right side. It has since that first time Harper dragged you in here when the sky opened up over the two of you walking home after a shift when you still used to crash on her couch. The rain didn't stop for three hours, all of which you spent over several cups of coffee and what the owner declared as the best English breakfast in town. It was the best you had had up until that point, and if Mr Sinclair ever asks you about it you'll swear that it's still the best you've ever had.

In combination with the company this place has become a safe haven in an ever changing world. Circumstances change, but not this place. Not these people. Even though you wouldn´t mind some temporary changes right about now.

“We're all adults here”, Miller argues and Harper rolls her eyes. It's your first day off since Christmas, the first chance to catch up after the holiday. Lunch at the cafe with the happy two sounded like the best you've heard since you got back home. “Come one, Raven, spill”, he pushes and you take a big gulp of your coffee. It barely burns the tip of your tongue, just how you like it.

“You're such a guy”, you tell him as you out down the cup.

“He really is”, Harper agrees, drawing Miller´s gaze to herself.

“What's that supposed to mean?”.

She only shakes her head at his silly behaviour and then places a sweet kiss to his lips. “Could you get us a refill?”, she asks with a silky smooth voice and you roll your eyes at them.

Miller mumbles something to her and then gets up from the table.

Once he´s out of hearing range Harper leans in over the table with a mischievous look on her face. “Spill”.

“Not gonna happen”, you laugh.

“ _Raven_ , you've got approximately thirty seconds. Please tell that you at least got to spend some one on one time with her”, she pleads.

You wet your lips before answering, “something like that”.

Her eyes widen until they are blown wide. And you feel heat on your cheeks before she starts laughing, causing you to flush even redder. “I knew it! Once a bad girl always a bad girl”, she snickers clearly referring to your previous habit of sharing your bed with a new person every other day, luckily enough she keeps her voice down so that the whole cafe isn't brought up to speed about your relationship. 

“It wasn't like that”, you tell her, lips pulling up into a tender smile. With a shake of your head you lift your gaze back up to meet Harper´s. “I love her, Harper. God, I'm so in love with her I think I'm going to explode”.

“What´s going to explode?”.

Miller slides back into his seat, a cup of steaming coffee in each hand. Harper mouths a silent ‘later’ and you almost regret saying anything at all. _Almost_.

“Your head if you keep eavesdropping”, Harper replies with a smirk and Miller pouts at her comment.

 _Home_ is a word that has become increasingly difficult to define. Your heart is divided, one part belongs here and another an ocean away, and it constantly aches to be reunited with what fills up each part. The people are what makes a home a _home_ and though your heart might be divided it´s never unsure; you need both parts to function. You wouldn´t be the person you are today without all the people that have either crossed your path and moved on or stayed. Which is why thinking of the future gets harder with each passing day, with each new day spent with the people her and yet another day apart from the people you constantly miss. 

You´ve known for some time now that there will come a day when you'll have to decide.

(You don’t long for it to come anytime soon.)

//

You turn the key in the lock and the door clicks open. Before entering you knock the snow off your shoes against the doorframe. Well inside the comforting smell of coffee fills you up from head to toe. 

“Lex?”, you call out as you kick off your shoes. For someone who usually meets you at the door she's awfully quiet. You hang up your coat, and take note of Lexa´s hanging on its usual hanger so she must be in the apartment. As you make your way down the hall towards the living room you pass her bedroom, you shoot a look in through the open door; it´s empty. You're about to call out for her again once you pass the unlocked bathroom, but when you step into the living room and look over to the kitchen you find her.

She's dancing around in a loose tank top and boyshorts, earphones in and hair up in a tangle of braids. She looks happy. Happy enough for her to sing along to whatever song she´s got blasting through those earbuds. 

Your eyebrows shoot up at the sight and you swallow back a guttural laughter. 

She spins around, clearly caught up in her dancing, and her eyes land on your amused look. She swings her hips more purposefully and winks at you, drawing that laughter back up and you can´t keep it in any longer. Once she got you bending forward in laughter she takes out her earphones and tosses them onto the kitchen table.

“Hey slacker”. You manage to catch your breath long enough to narrow your eyes at her comment. “You know”, she continues as she makes her way towards you, “I only gave you that key for emergencies”.

You huff, and draw her into your embrace. She folds her arms around your waist and hold you tight to her, hands rubbing up over your back. “Keep saying that and I´ll stop dropping by unannounced, and you know you'll hate that”, you mumble and she laughs before shoving you away.

She pours herself a cup of coffee, and watching her take that first sip of what you know for a fact to be _excellent_ coffee makes your mouth water. She turns around to lean against the counter, cup in her hands and eyes taking you in.

“Need anything?”, she then asks and you press your lips together. You wait for a second, but give up and pad you way over to her. “Predictable”, she scoffs when you reach behind her for a cup of your own.

“I'm only here for the coffee, I promise”, you tell her as you pour the cup.

She huffs quietly and elbows you in the side once you lean back beside her.

“How´s Raven?”. Your lips quirk up into a smile at the name, and you catch the teasing one pulling at the corner of Lexa´s mouth. “Good. Is she coming back for spring break?”.

You shake your head, gaze dropping to the brown liquid. “No. She doesn't have any more days off”.

Lexa hums in response, her hand coming to rest around your waist. “Are you going to London?”.

“I can't, I'm busy all semester”. You'd want nothing more than to be able to quit everything and see her, but the reality is that neither of you would accept that decision in the long run. “We're making it work”, you mumble and instantly feel the tug at your waist.

“It'll be okay”. The silent ‘I know how it feels’ doesn't go missed and you exhale deeply, very well aware of the fact that Lexa does _know_ how it feels. Which is why you don't have to tell her that it's breaking you inside, already, and that making it work equals taking it one day after another. She stirs beside you and retracts her arm, leaving you without the comfort of her embrace. “Ehm, there's actually something I wanted to talk to you about”, she tells you and immediately draws all of your undivided attention towards herself.

“Okay, what is it?”.

She laughs nervously and you can't frown at the sounds. Lexa isn't one to let on that she´s nervous. She shakes her head, eyes locking with your own.

“Costia´s moving in”.

“Really? That's great! When?”. Your reaction is instant and genuine. The joy in Lexa´s green eyes says it all; this is a long time coming. If there are anyone that deserves some happiness it´s her, and it´s Costia. They´ve been fighting for this for longer than you've known Lexa, and through every up and down neither of them have wavered. 

“Friday”, she starts with that wicked look of hers. “So, you know, if you could _not_ use that key of yours for a while that´d be great”.

You lean in close, eyes still locked on hers, until you can smell the coffee on her breath as it brushes against your cheeks. With a teasing smile you clink your mug against hers, “I'll be here Saturday morning”.

She huffs in response and knocks her forehead against yours. You catch her mumbling your name under her breath when she leans back, and you step out of space, only to place your cup on the counter and then reach for hers to place it next to yours. Her hands are smooth and warm when you take them in your own. You reach out with your fingers to trace the lines of the tattoo winding around her wrist; you've followed those same lines a million times before, mapped the whole tattoo in your mind, it's practically a habit by now. 

“I´m happy for you, Lexa, really happy”.

Her smile is small, the blush on her cheeks barely noticeable. “I'm happy for you, too. And proud”, she says, causing you to frown, in confusion to her choice of words. She squeezes both of your hands as she continues, “you took a risk and now you've got the girl”.

“So you're not sour about not getting this piece of ass for yourself?”, you mock and she wets her lips with that same wicked expression resurfacing.

“You're hot, Griffin. I´ll give you that”.

“But…”, you encourage, and she squeezes both of your hands once again.

“You were never mine to take”, she starts. “Besides you're not the type of girl that _lets_ herself be taken”.

A heartfelt laughter rolls through you and having your breath caught in your throat has never felt any better. Once the laughter dries out, turning into a lingering smile, you shake your head, eyes fixating on those green ones looking back at you. 

“I love you, you know”.

“Yeah yeah, don't get all sappy with me”, she plays, a second later she pulls you into her arms and hugs you closely. “I love you too, babe”.

And for a while you´re not worried about the future. Or about distance.

\-----

_February_

It's supposed to be an ordinary day. A day just like any other. It's the third Thursday in the month so you should be getting the crew together after lunch for the monthly meeting, then you would be planning next month’s schedule. It's an ordinary Thursday afternoon when you get the call, Octavia's voice comes through ragged and shaky. 

An ocean away where people are just getting out of bed to start their day a drunk driver has hit Costia's SUV; right in the side, crushing the door to the driver’s seat. He was on his way home, stressed to get there before his wife noticed his absence, and ran a red light. He dies in the impact. It's supposed to be a day like every other. She had taken the usual route on her way to work, ready to get an early start to the day and hopefully end that project she had been working on for weeks. She ran on the green light to turn left, ready to guide the car into an open parking lot at the one and only stop on her way to work.

Costia was driving and in the passenger seat beside her sat Lexa.

It is supposed to be an ordinary day for all of them, it sure started out that way, but Octavia’s call changes everything. It changed long before that, but for you her voice and the words she barely manages to get through turns your whole world on its end.

Because it's Lexa, and it's _Clarke_.

You spend the whole day on the phone arguing with the airlines. When they can't help you you turn to Heathrow airport itself. Apparently an incoming storm is keeping all departing flights to the US on the ground for a least another hour, which quickly turns into two, three and after an especially nasty conversation with an irritable woman you're told that there are no tickets available. You take the news as a responsible adult and tell her to go fuck off. Not your proudest moment. You are aware of the fact that this woman isn't to blame for you being stuck in London for what might as well just be another day, but you have to get home because it's Clarke, and Clarke doesn't deal well with death.

Hell, you don't deal well with death, but your wounds are not as fresh as hers.

So you need to be there.

Whatever it takes.

Anya arrives at your door with an over packed duffel bag and two first class tickets like the answer to a prayer late into the night. Her hair is a mess, in that newly woken up state kind of way, and her eyes are overflowing with worry. You don't ask any questions, just get the necessary and lock up. You don't ask her, don´t need to; because what it comes down to is that you both understand what the impact of a sudden death can do to people, people that you both love. You don't ask, just take her hand as the plane lifts off the ground and squeeze it hard. 

She doesn't tell you anything at first, but at some point she grows impatient with the silence, so she starts talking and you listen.

You learn on that eight hours flight about Lexa and Anya's relationship, how they practically grew up together as kids until Anya's family moved to England and how they stayed close throughout all of these years. Her eyes don't calm down, they remain on the brink of filling up with tears. Not when you board the plane. Not when you land, or when you storm through the door to Lexa´s apartment like two lunatics to find Lexa and Clarke on the floor, clutching to each other like they are each other's lifelines.

The hitch in Anya's breath however is a sign of something breaking inside of her too.

Clarke´s eyes are bloodshot and you see deserts where there are usually oceans.

Lexa´s face is hidden in the nape of the blonde's neck, her hands holding onto Clarke´s sides, she's clutching to the fabric of Clarke´s grey t-shirt, knuckles screaming white. Neither of them move and if their breaths weren't laboured you´d never guess that they were more than mere statutes. 

Up close streaks of tears mark Clarke´s chest, new and old ones. You can't decipher whether there are her own or Lexa´s. For all you know, knowing wouldn´t make your heart feel any lighter.

// 

Costia's family fly in the next day. When you meet them they greet you with small words and teary eyes. 

That same night, (while Raven tries to wipe away the silent tears gushing down your cheeks) you listen to Costia’s family and their prayers in the dark from the other side of the wall. 

Raven mumbles the words of a prayer, she has told you about her parents´ spirituality and the way she was taught, but hearing the words coming from her lips, whispered ever so softly, cracks you open once more. She mumbles something about it being the prayer her grandparents taught her and how her parents used to say it with her when she was a small kid as they tucked her into bed. It´s beautiful, and you wish that you could tell her that, but instead the tears take the upper hand and throws you into another set of sobs.

Raven holds you that night, hard and tight to her chest, mumbling that prayer over and over again until it fills you up. And somehow, you don't feel like giving up in the morning.

The funeral is beautiful and the tears are proof of the lives Costia touched in her short lifetime.

(It makes Raven think of her mother and father. It makes you choke back throat ripping sobs at the memory of your father.)

(Neither if you sleep that week it seems like. You're wide awake, hands clutching to each other's bodies, minds empty, sharing one heartbeat.)

\-----

_Mars_

It's been three weeks. Three long weeks of too much distance and non-stop worrying. Seeing Clarke broken down over Costia´s death took a tool on you, leaving her in the midst of recovering left you with a heavy chest. Clarke had to push you out of the door for you to leave, and practically force you through security. God knows, you´d stay if you could. Hell, you were on brink of calling Wick to quit the second Clarke asked when you had to leave. She wouldn't let you. She _didn´t_ let you do that. 

Anya stayed behind for Lexa (and for you), knowing that behind that stoic front Lexa kept up from the moment Costia´s family arrived she was losing it. Righteously so. Anya did promise to update you on her progress and to keep an eye on Clarke.

She has been good with the updates, and you're happy to be kept in the lop, happy to know that Clarke has Lexa, and vice versa, and Lexa has Anya. 

It's the end of shift and you're back in your office, feet up on the desk and laptop in your lap.

The screen is shines bright and you can see your reflection staring back at you. You´ve been thinking about it for a while now, but yet not managed to type in the words. Perhaps you're afraid of what it will set off; of what you'll do if you get the right, or the wrong, answer.

You thought about it before the accident; however the accident offered you another reason to reconsider your choices. If there's something life has taught you, it is that it's fleeting and can be lost within the blink of an eye. You´ve had to go through that lesson more times than you should have at your age. Yet, you've never stopped to think about it. It's been all go, go, go and don't stop even though it hurts. Maybe you're prone to running, but you're also left with no roots and nowhere to really settle down when the world gets to crazy. Circumstances may have forced you to act fast and think later, but it has always been you that have made the decision to run as far as possible.

Since your parents passed you've lived with no ties. Now you find yourself with more than you can count, and more opportunities to do great work and become someone great as well. What it comes down to is whether or not you chose to stay this time or go back. You made a rushed choice last time, a necessary one but rushed all the same.

You don't want to rush this time.

This time you will do the right thing by yourself and try to shape your future into something that you _want_.

You've just about typed it the words and pressed enter when your phone goes off. The caller ID reads one simple name, a name that immediately puts a smile on your lips.

“Hey you. How are you?”, you answer as you press the phone to your ear.

Lincoln sighs with relief on the other end of the line before his rough and familiar voice meets you, _”Raven. It's good to hear your voice_.

He´s on the top of the list over people that you miss every single day. You don´t tell him that enough.

(He knows. Better than you understand.)

“Yours too, Linc. You good?”, you ask as your eyes search the screen for anything that might catch your attention.

 _”Yeah, all good. Octavia says hi as well”_.

A teasing smile pulls at the corner of your mouth. “Tell her that I got the book she sent”.

You can hear him pass on the message and then his voice is back in your ear, _”did you like it?”_.

You chuckle quietly. “Are you kidding me? I'm not reading that thing. Battle strategies are her thing, I´ll stick to my music”.

 _”Good thing you're in London”_ , he mumbles and you can see the smile on his lips as if he´s right in front of you. _”What are you up to?”_ , he asks then.

You´ve closed three tabs by now, avoiding the last one by purpose, only now that is the only one left. When it appears on the screen your eyes are immediately drawn to the date, a date that offers you the choice you didn't know you wanted.

“Oh I´m…”, you scoff when you realize that you've been quiet for far too long. “Just finishing up some work, waiting for Atom to close the bar and yeah, looking at colleges”, the last word comes out as a whisper and you hear the sharp intake of breath on the other line.

 _”Did I hear that right? Please, tell me that I heard that right”_. You bite your lips as you scan through the rest of the page, taking all the information that could possibly fit in your exhausted mind. _“Raven”_.

“Yeah”, you confirm and he lets out a long and hard breath, like he´s been holding it in while waiting for your answer.

 _”Dare I ask this…”_ , he murmurs and you close your eyes. _”is it because of Clarke?”_.

“No. Yes .Since I got that letter last year, thank you very much, I've been thinking about it. I found the application date for my old one”, you explain, your head already filling up with expectations and hopes. “I haven't made a decision yet”, you mumble, perhaps more to yourself than to Lincoln.

 _”That's perfectly okay. Just the fact that you're considering it at this point is amazing”_.

His words are comforting, however comforting you´d much rather have this conversation with him face to face. You were lucky to get as much time as you got to spend with him and the rest of them over Christmas. Unlimited time, or as close to that as you could get, is one of the reason why you've reconsidered going back to college. You´ve sunk back in your thoughts when your phone start to vibrate against your ear, you check to screen and discover that you've received a new message. From Clarke. Her name alone makes your heart swell.

**Clarke (2:47am): Almost home. Call me whenever you're done**

Her text leaves your chest feeling much lighter and you press the phone back over your ear. Lincoln´s breath is calm and steady on the other line, waiting for you to break the silence. Which you do with a sigh.

“Enough about me. What's been going on with you guys?”.

You talk for another half an hour, ending it with scheduling a proper talk over the weekend.

(Clarke picks up your call with a light and heartfelt ‘hello’ and you know deep inside that you made your decision months ago.)

//

The floor is cold. Nice, but still cold. The apartment is completely dark, apart from the soft shimmer from the streetlight sneaking in through one of the windows in the living room. You pad quietly from one room to another, checking that neither of accidently left a candle still lit. Lexa´s obsession with candles has only gotten worse since Costia´s death. A part of you believes that she has turned to one of the few things that had in common; they might have been a great couple but they were different, on all levels. You don't oppose her trying to find a way to deal with the loss of someone she has loved, for years, but _you_ feel better about this obsession when you're around to make sure that it doesn't go overboard.

She´s become more forgetful. At first it was orders at the cafe, she even mixed up the regular´s orders, and she never does that normally. Then, it was simpler things like where she'd put her keys and favourite novels; all things that she´s only misplaced during a heavy fever before. Lately, it's been locking the doors and blowing out the candles. In the beginning you didn't think much about it. However now you can´t turn away from the problem.

She´s been grieving in all ways possible; quietly, loudly, with her hands pulling out her hair, with tears streaming down her face. Through the funeral she kept a brave face on, not letting anyone see the pain in her eyes for more than seconds at best. But you knew, you always knew and so did everyone else as well. Her dispossession didn't fool anyone. Nor her attempts at forcing herself into working the week after. Anya stayed for seventeen days, never taking her eyes off of Lexa for more than the hours you spent in her company. Perhaps she hoped that Lexa would give in and open up to you when she didn't open up to her.

Lexa didn't say anything. At least nothing of weight.

Once Anya had to leave the forgetfulness kicked in and you started to count the days Lexa appeared before you with bags under her eyes.

It´s the third day now that you'll be staying at Lexa´s apartment, determined to try and do what you can to help her sleep. Up until now she's been acting as usual, forgetful but that too has become usual. When you've checked the whole apartment you sneak into the bedroom, careful not to trip on your way over to the bed. Lexa is already asleep, or close to it, you can hear her breathing. It's shallow, but still steady.

Lifting the covers to lay down you notice the way Lexa´s breathing ceases and the sound, or lack thereof, cuts deep into your core. You lay silent and wait for her to relax. 

She doesn´t.

The waiting starts to feel like hoping for a tornado to roam free in her. For it to close in on her soul and swallow her whole. Perhaps it already has and you´re just waiting for her to give in to the grief, fully. At least then you´d know what to do, you can handle sickness but not grief. You can´t help her, not as long as she holds back, and you will not force her to open up. That would be the worst thing to do.

Her sobs is what breaks the silence and it´s like a wall trembles to the ground.

You search in the dark for her, first with your worried eyes and then with your careful hand. It´s too dark for you to be able to make out anything else than the shape of the back of her head, so you reach out and lace your fingers through her unbraided hair. The sobs grow louder as you brush through her locks. You stay in your place for what feels like an eternity, but you're stilling waiting for her permission; and it comes as a hand reaching behind her body for your own body. She pulls at your other hand until you crawl up behind her, then she cradles the same hand under her chin. You feel the tears on your hand as they run down her cheeks. You can't escape the way she trembles through every sob and how she bucks back to close every distance between your bodies, like she's holding onto dear life, trying desperately not to drown in her tears. 

Like you _are_ the only thing left keeping her afloat.

“Shh”, you whisper and press your lips in a soft kiss to the nape of her neck. It doesn't help. Nor does you rubbing the back of her hand with your thumb. “I'm so sorry, Lexa”, you then whispers and the sobs instantly turn into loud cries.

“It hurts”, she cries hard and stutters on every word. Her nails dig into your skin and you hold onto her even tighter. “It hurts _so_ bad”.

“I know”, is all you can tell her. It's true; you do know how bad it hurts to lose someone you love. You also know that words mean nothing in the dark hole of grief, at least not in the state she is in now. All that can do any help is holding her close and steady, offering her a safe space to let out every ripping emotion. “Shh, I'm here, I´m here”, you tell her, over and over until she no longer cries.

The tears don´t stop during the whole night and you lose every chance of sleep watching over her, still watching her find some, however temporary, rest soothes your heart.

\-----

_April_

You're startled awake by a loud thud outside the door, your eyes snap open at the sound and quickly scan the room. It´s not even dinner time, the club isn't open for another couple of hours, the only ones around are the crew. You sink back in your seat once you can´t find anything wrong, but as soon as you close your eyes another thud reaches you.

“Raven! Get out here! Now!”.

You know that voice, all too well.

“Why me, why today”, you mumble as you kick your feet of the desk. Before opening the door you reach down the pocket of your jacket hanging on the wall next to the door, you pull out your phone and put it in your back pocket. 

Just in case.

Outside the door Atom waits, eyebrows raised, hands busy with a towel and drops of sweat visible on his forehead. It's delivery day and you don't have time with this.

“Need me?”, he asks and hooks the towel in his belt, eyes darting towards the bar when the sound of bottle rattling reach you both. He sighs before you can and settles his hands on his hips.

“No”, you tell him and scratch at the back of your neck. “I'll handle it. Take care of the delivery”.

He nods. “Will do, boss”, he says and walks past you towards the end of the hall.

You listen out for another round of that rattling sound. As you close the door to your office you turn towards the end of the hall. “Hey Atom, close the door will you”, you call out for him once he stops in front of the storage room.

He eyes you up and down, and you nod affirmatively, and he sighs once again. You hear the door shut behind you as you walk towards the bar.

Murphy is busy pouring himself a whisky when you enter the bar, hands sloppy and swearing under his breath when he spills a significant amount of that single malt over himself. Under different circumstances you´d laugh and pull a joke on him, once upon a time he´d flip you off and then laugh as well. Under different circumstances you could have been friends, still. Unfortunately, that is not how it is and you bite down on your lip, bracing yourself for whatever _this_ will result in.

You clear your throat and his eyes snap up over the rim of the glass. Anger, red and screaming anger, that is all you see in those eyes of his. He takes the rest of the drink in one sweep and drops the glass over the counter. It doesn´t shatter, nor does the tension hanging in the air. You´re not prepared for this, you know it. 

Still, there's no way to avoid it any longer.

Murphy raises his finger and points at you. “I´ll have a word with you”, he mutters and you catch the way the words stumble over his tongue.

“That's more than one”, you reply and move over to the opposite side of the counter. You pick up the glass he dropped but he snags it out of your hand before you can remove it, and you throws you hand in the air as you lean back against the shelfs. 

“You know… I deserve this…. I should have been the one”, he argues, slurs, with an unsteady hand on the neck of the bottle of whisky. He spills once again and you don't want to think about how many drinks he has had before he showed up here.

“Take it easy. What the hell are you talking about?”, you ask, aware of the way his hand close around the glass more firmly.

“I don't get it”. He looks deep and long into the glass, manipulating it in his hand so that it starts to spin against the counter, the glass tips over and covers the counter with the tarry fragrant liquid. 

He does all of this to get under your skin. Successfully so, too. You step forward, one hand reaching down to open the lower cupboard below the counter, you pull out the top towel. When you lean forward to wipe up his mess, he grips your wrist, hard. You drop the towel and watch the liquid instantly soak through the fabric. You take a deep breath, ready for the earthquake, and lift your gaze to meet his eyes.

He snickers and the alcohol on his breath makes you sick to your stomach. But it’s when he goes quiet that the worry sets in and you sneak a glance towards the hall, unfortunately Atom did as you told him and is nowhere to be seen. 

Murphy demands your attention with a sudden pull of your wrist and you bite back the series of insults you´d rather throw in his face even though you know that would make things worse. Once your eyes are back on his he tilts his head and clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

“Did you sleep with him? Is that why he gave you the club?”, he hisses. Before you can answer him he pulls your wrist for a second time, pulling you hard against the counter. His breath his heavy and close against your temple, and then his voice comes out like poison and attaches itself on your mind. “You're a slag”.

It´s a reflex; you shove him off of you and try to step away, determined to keep your cool.

His reaction is instant. The sound of his palm slamming into your face seems to fill up the whole room. You hear yourself gasp and then him stumbling to a fall on the other side of the bar. Your cheek is numb while the rest of your body vibrates, with flaming anger overflowing you like the eruption of a volcano. He falls to the ground with a loud thud, much louder than the ones he made before.

The stroke had put you off your feet, flung you back towards the shelfs and there you still are. Nails digging into the lowest shelf, breath laboured, eyes tightly shut and mind blank.

“Raven?”, the sound of your name pulls you back and you turn your head towards it.

“Atom”, you answer as you meet the man's worried eyes. He turns is attention towards what you can only assume is Murphy and takes a fast step forward. “I got him”.

Atom stops in his tracks, gaze still low and fixed at the other man.

“ _Atom_ ”, you call out when he clenches his hands into his by his sides. He looks up at you and you move over to his side, one hand coming up to squeeze his arm comfortingly. “Go make sure Maya has dealt with that schedule issue she talked about… alright?”.

Both of you look down at Murphy who seems to be trying to get back up on his feet, without much luck; he just falls back on his face with a grunt.

“Call for me if he-”, Atom starts and you step in front of him

“Thank you”.

You can hear him leave, muttering under his breath. You´re thankful to have him here, thankful that he took a liking to your managing over at Plan B, _thankful_ that he´s not like every other hot-headed guy and only wants to get in your pants. He´s reliable, strong and, most importantly, he trusts you.

All of the things you thought you´d think of Murphy.

Things don't always go as you hope.

You hook your arm in Murphy’s and get him into a sitting position. He swears at you, acting like the child he undeniably is. His words don't bother you, not when he´s practically hanging off of your back for support. You lead him out of the club and out on the curb, once there you call for a cab. He´s still mouthing off when you get him into the cab.

The driver doesn't look impressed as he meets your gaze in the rearview mirror. You can only pay him and shut the door, happy to get Murphy's drunk ass off of your hands.

“Murphy, go home and sleep it off”, you tell him, certainly to deaf ears, through the rolled down window

You can understand his anger. What you can´t understand is why she comes to you with his anger, when Wick put the offer on the table. If he had been interested inclined to get the job he could most certainly have gone behind your back to get it while you were away. You kept Wick _waiting_. All Murphy had to do was throw you under the bus, which had been less painful than the headache you'll have for the next twenty four hours, and then it would have been up to Wick to do whatever he wanted to do.

The sun is slowly setting in the distance and you catch your breath, heart calming down after that sudden turn of events for the day. The numbness as started to subdue, leaving a sharp pain shooting through your jaw and your skin heated. You watch as the driver turns on the engine and slowly pulls into drive. Your eyes wander away, catching the shadow of someone approaching you and you follow the shadow until you can identify the person.

She wears a bright smile on her lips, clad in the usual leather jacket and boots, white shirt and blue skinny jeans. You recognize those jeans and it triggers a smile to grow onto your own lips.

“Anya”, you greet her, arms opening to give her a hug.

“Friend of yours?”, she asks point at the cab driving off before getting into your embrace.

“More like ex-employee”, you correct her and relax into her arms, happy to see a familiar face. A face that doesn´t look back at _you_ with worry. She knows better than to worry about you by this point.

She steps out of your arms and immediately reaches up to gently trace the outlines of your cheek with her fingertips. It hurts and you bite back every wince when she brushes over the more sensitive spots. “Put some ice on that. Intense day?”.

“Nah, as usual”, you lie and she scoffs.

“Got time for a drink?”.

You snicker, eyes darting down to your left arm to check the time. “Hell, I got time for a whole bottle”, you answer her and she nods happily, her eyes only glimmering with warmth.

“Right answer. Show the way”.

Anya stays a whole hour into shift, hovering behind the bar, mouthing off to inappropriate customers and flirting with the crew. You don't talk about Clarke, or Lexa, or college. You only work, laugh and enjoy your time together (knowing that these moments are slipping away, one after another). 

And you're happy.

 _Really_ happy.

//

You fling your feet up on the coffee table, hands wrapped around the phone and a smirk on your lips. You read the message over again, this time imagining Raven´s face twisted with pain and irritation, eyes shimmering with righteously earned pride. Another message drops into your inbox and the smirk on your lips grows unstable.

**Raven (7:13pm): Remind me to NEVER wear heels again**

**Raven (7:13pm): I WANT TO DIE**

You laugh wholeheartedly for yourself, typing in your answer with the laughter vibrating through your whole body.

**Clarke (7:14pm): You big baby**

**Raven (7:14pm): I am in pain, you're supposed to comfort me**

The tug in your chest is strong. The words says one thing, but as they settle in your mind they find another meaning. The laughter in your lungs fades into a soft smile. In the background the voices of Lincoln and Octavia grow more distinctive. You shoot a look over towards the kitchen to find them hovering over the stove, standing close and giggling. 

It was their idea to have dinner together.

Octavia had mentioned something about it being time to get over yourself. You had glared at her, she had laughed and revealed that Lincoln had done the same thing. That's what she got for playing the middleman.

Not that she really needs to be that person, not anymore. Since the wedding the tension has gradually subsided and lately it's been like it used to be. Neither of you hold a grudge towards each other, the last few months have certainly proved that both of you are parts of the same family. A usual family, but a family nonetheless. Even before Costia´s death he checked up on, sometimes through Raven but also more frequently with you directly, and after the accident he stepped in.

Before everything that happened between Raven and you he was like big brother to the whole group, and he continued to be one after Raven took off (with the exception of you).You´ve watched as he become that person for Lexa too after Costia´s passing. Which reminded you of why you took such a quick linking to him when you met back during your freshman year.

Watching them now, almost a year after that weekend, the weekend that made it possible for you to put all the pieces together, you know that _this_ is family. Your family. Through all the bad and all the good, somehow you're still a family. 

The only thing that's missing is _her_.

You send the reply with a flutter in your stomach. A flutter that has been present since the day she looked at you through that screen with attentive eyes, those three words lingering on your lips and the silence too great to be broken by words. At least not by spoken ones, but silence has always been your thing, hers _and_ yours.

**Clarke (7:16pm): If only you were here…**

**Raven (7:16pm): Then what?**

You bite your lip, knowing that she´s doing the same thing an ocean away and those same dirty thoughts on her mind. It´s in the silence that she hears you the best, that's when you speak most clearly.

**Clarke (7:17pm): You know what**

The suggestive message evokes another flutter in your stomach and you stir in your seat.

“So”, Octavia interrupts your thoughts and pokes your shoulder, your hands reflexively hiding the screen from her curious eyes. “White or red?”.

You shake your head ever so slightly, her lips pressed together and eyes taking you in. All of you. All of the flutter and longing in your eyes.

“Whatever you think is best”, you reply softly and reach out to poke her hip. She hums quietly and twirls.

“Say hi from us”, she murmurs as she makes her way over to the dinner table.

Lincoln pads over there too with two loaded plates in his hands. You meet his gaze, and he only needs that short second to see it too. You watch as he sets the plates down alongside Octavia who´s busy pouring the wine. They share a glance, a quiet exchange of unspoken words, and the love they share radiates from their faces.

Your phone vibrates in your hand, guiding you to open the new message. 

And you smile bright and big at the words that meet you. 

**Raven (7:25pm): Soon baby, soon**

You leave the phone on the coffee table, the flutter though it stays in you, and get up from the couch. Reaching the table you take a mouthful of wine before you slumps down into one of the chairs. The happy two takes a seat across from you.

“This looks amazing, Linc”, you praise.

“Thank you. I actually got the recipe from Lexa”.

You take that first bite with a watering mouth and the taste makes you hum in appreciation.

Octavia fills you in on her day, the police academy is kicking her ass and she's kicking right back. All in pure Octavia style. The food is incredible, _they_ are incredible, and you spend that whole hour talking, smiling and laughing. 

You pick up the wine bottle and pour the rest of the wine for yourself. It's your third glass and you feel the subtle effects of the alcohol in your blood. “So… have you guys heard the good news?”.

Their faces says it all. Of course they know.

Octavia shoves her plate towards the centre of the table, giving herself some room to prop her elbows up. She leans in over the table and rests her chin in her hands. Those deep eyes of yours are smiling back at you. “On a scale from one to ten, how excited are you?”, she asks. Lincoln scoffs smiling as the words get caught in your throat, casing your cheek to flash red. “You're blushing”, Octavia points out triumphantly.

“Stop it”, you giggle.

“I´m happy for you”, Lincoln tells you surprisingly.

“Both of us are”, Octavia joins in and then leaves the table, taking the empty wine bottle with her.

She brings out a second bottle from the top cupboard and opens it after some struggling with the corkscrew.

“Can´t really believe she´s coming home, for good”, tell them and feel that flutter sparking back alive in your stomach.

“Just so you know”, Octavia exclaims as she returns and slumps back in her chair with a wide grin. “We're all betting on how long it´s gonna take for you two to move in with each other”.

You huff. “I'm… not even surprised”, you reply and Octavia shrugs her shoulders innocently. Although, that only made you curious. “What did you bet on?”.

She scoffs as she pours herself a full glass. “Like I'm telling you that”. Lincoln glances over at his wife (you still haven't gotten used to calling her his _wife_ ), one brow arched and lips pressed together tightly. Octavia avoids his eyes and looks back up to meet yours. “Just don´t wait _too_ long, okay”, she tells you and you choke on your breath.

“Unbelievable”, you sputter as you begin to laugh, Octavia follows suite and has to put down her glass so that she doesn't spill all of its content over herself.

Lincoln only shakes his head, mumbling something about the two of you being your typical crazy under his breath, a giant smile plastered over his lips.

\-----

_May_

It´s dead quiet. Calm. _New_. You take in a deep breath, the air fills up all of the space in your chest. When you exhale your eyes shut and that quiet wraps itself around your entire body, it wriggles in between your ribs and the aching feeling you've been carrying around the last week finally settles. Your eyes open once you inhale, taking in the sight of the room. You´ve been walking around the empty apartment for the last hour, talking it all in; the space, the smells, the silence, the familiar buzz of traffic outside.

You're only wearing a tank top and the pair of shorts Clarke lent you. Typically really, once you make the move and this happens. Really _fucking_ typical that the airline had to get your stuff mixed up, send them to New York of all places, leaving you with the clothes on your back. Perhaps you should have prepared better and sent over some of your stuff in advance, maybe then you wouldn't be in this situation. If they manage to _not_ screw it up again, delaying once more, you should get your stuff by Wednesday, just in time for the delivery of the furniture you've bought. All you have is a mattress and kitchenware; enough to stay alive as Bellamy so graciously put it when he came around earlier. 

He and Clarke picked you up at the airport last night, ready to help out to get your things in check. When there was nothing for them to help out with you sent them home, Bellamy didn't take much convincing, just a promise of a housewarming party once you're settled in. Clarke on the other hand wouldn't leave without a fight, or an attempt of seducing you. On any other night you would have said yes, _screamed_ yes over and over again, but tonight you really needed to be alone.

She understood. Tried to at least. You kissed her goodbye at the door, watched her pad down the staircase with that adorable pout on her mouth, and it hit you that you're not saying _goodbye_.

It´s a ‘see you later’. And you know it's true.

Distance will no longer separate you. What was an ocean is now twenty short minutes. She could be here under half an hour if she'd wanted, and that is no distance to speak of.

The floor is cold under your bare feet. Cold and smooth. You´ve always loved this; the quiet moment at the break of dawn, when you're all alone and just waiting for the rest of the world to wake up. Leaving London was harder than you thought it would be, and still so much easier. You left the place, not the people. 

You didn't run this time, didn´t flee. All you did was… come home. 

//

The sun has barely breached the horizon when you step out of the small cafe, a bag of bagels in one hand and two double espressos in the other. Whether the coffee is any good or not you have no idea, all that matters is that it´s strong. The cafe is the one closest to Raven´s new apartment and in the opposite direction to your usual coffee spot, hence why you're unsure of its quality. It hasn't quite sunk in yet - that she´s home that is. And that she´s living merely twenty minutes away. It kept you up late last night, sleep wouldn´t find your buzzing body and the butterflies in your stomach wouldn't let you lose that smile on your lips. That same smile that transferred from Raven´s lips when she kissed you goodnight at her door. It's been a long time coming, and still no time at all, not in comparison to all the months you spent unknowing. So, you bought some bagels and coffee. Not knowing whether it´s good or not, or if she's expecting you at this hour (she isn't, but she hoped). All you know is that she’ll probably need it after her first night in that empty apartment.

It´s early.

Too early for making plans.

You know better than to storm in and demand a future when she´s just made this crucial decision. One that opened up so many doors for your relationship, and closed just as many for the life she made for herself.

(She might not know it yet, but she has already made up her mind.)

(This is for forever.)

Too late for you to not be involved. 

You can already feel the chills up your calves and the shivers run down your spine, they meet at the pit of your stomach, builds up and threaten to erupt when you least expect it. Only, you don't mind the tension. Not this kind of tension. Because you, no, your _body_ knows that she'll look at you and the eruption will be waves of warmth. And she'll capture the flush of your skin within her embrace, she´ll trace the contour of your jaw with her fingertips and you'll breathe the same air. 

The tension is a promise of tornados and sunsets.

She answers the door clad in the clothes from last night. A soft smile meets your eyes and an ever softer exhale. She breathes your name, and you can't help but think that it reminds you of a prayer. Her arms take you in and hold you close, and you inhale her scent. Home. She smells like home and comfort.

The apartment is bare and empty apart from the lonely mattress on the bedroom floor. 

“I thought you´d need some caffeine”, you tell her as you slip down onto the mattress. She follows suit, her thigh pressed close to yours and on hand slipping around your neck. Her fingers massage at the curve of your neck and your stomach flips pleasantly.

“Do you have anything stronger”, she jokes and you hand her the bag with bagels.

“Eat. Drink. And then we can…”, you leave the sentence unfinished and her eyes are glowing.

She exhales heavily, her fingers withdrawing from your neck. “I think I better get some sleep”.

You watch her as she takes out two bagels, hands one over to you and then breaks her own in two. Her movements are slow, her eyes tired, posture slump and still, she´s never been more beautiful.

With a kiss to her bare shoulder you whisper, “sounds good”, and the truth is nothing has ever sounded as good as just being her with her.

You eat in silence. Bodies aching. Minds exhausted. And it's the best kind of tired. You clean up as quietly as you can afterwards, since Raven sometime after you left her side on the mattress fell back. You suspect the tiredness became too much and that the coffee came a little too late. It almost feels wrong to intrude on her calm and sleeping peace, but your own body has gone far too long without proper sleep. So you ease down next to her, careful not to disturb her sleep. Only, once you’re laying comfortably you can´t close your eyes for more than seconds at a time. The urge to watch her is too great.

Maye all the months spent over Skype has made you used to watching her sleep, and having her here beside you doesn´t change the fact that you watching her like this eases your mind. So you lay there, observing her quietly. The taste of those three words you´ve grown accustomed to linger on your tongue, and your eyes have traced her soft face too many times to remember. She looks so calm, calm and safe. 

She is here, _here with you_ , and the steady beat on your heart matches her calm breaths.

She slowly stirs onto her side, and you reach out with your arm to sooth her. She turns fully onto her side, her face now completely turned towards you, her body pressing into you. Her head now onto of your arm, heavy and perfect, lips brushing against your tricep. A smile tugs at the corner of your mouth when her arm comes to rest over your waist. You think it's her getting comfortable and giving in to sleep, with the way her breathing stays heavy and steady, but then she places a gentle kiss on your arm.

And another one.

After the fifth you lose count. 

It has something to do with them moving up your arm, her lips only connecting to your skin for short moments before moving on to another spot. Her arm over your waist keeps you still and her legs entangled with yours without you noticing, you only feel it when she presses closer and brings her knee up dangerously close your centre. Her mouth is on your collarbone, one hand slipping under your shirt to scratch at skin of your stomach.

“I could get used to this”, she murmurs with those full lips brushing against your skin at every word.

“Me too”, you gasp when she bites down firmly on the skin over your pulse point, your mouth dry and core pulsating at her every move. “Let´s get used to it”, you tell her and flips her onto her back, your mouth on hers and waves of deep warmth running through your veins.

Over and over and over again.

\-----

_June_

You slip past the door to the bedroom, sneaking a glance in through the gab to catch the slight movement under the covers. Clarke´s deep asleep. She came back around three am last night, round on her feet and laughter on her voice. Well, laughter and booze. She and Octavia had gone out to blow off some steam after finals with the rest of the gang. You were working into the night, and once you were done you didn´t feel like going out. After spending the last year or so partying staying home for a change does more for your wellbeing than dragging yourself home by the end of the night. Although, as the night owl you are you were awake when Clarke came knocking on your door.

It was a surprise. A welcomed one. She was slurring on her words, constantly grabbing at you and whispering in a flirtatious voice all the things she knows get you going. Your time together had been limited to a few short moments due to Clarke having to study so it was nice to see her, even though it would have been nicer if she was able to stand up without support herself on _anything_ within reach.

You persuaded her into bed and even though her attempts to fulfil her goal for the night were extremely tempting, both of you fell asleep rather quickly. Perhaps that's what's so different with her - you've been avoiding sleep for as long as you can remember, running low on rest since you lost your ground at sixteen. With her, really _with_ her, you're not scared to lay down your guard and find peace. After all that have happened, after all that you've been through together, maybe this is the true testament to why being with her seems so obvious.

Back in September you had a conversation with Harper about all that had happened. It was during a rather rough patch in her and Miller´s relationship and, even though she told you that wasn't the fact, you knew that she needed to hear that she wasn't the only one. That their situation wasn't unlike any other´s. It wasn´t. So you told her about the struggle, of losing hope, of the pain and ultimately, of the decision to try again.

When she asked why you were willing to sacrifice the stability you had found, you only had one answer for her; being around _her_ was undeniably the one thing you couldn't be without.

Even when you were an ocean away, you still had pieces of her with you, she was there every time you called Lincoln and Octavia, every time you felt asleep listening to the playlist she added her favourite songs to. She was there.

She's been with you since the day she walked through the door, face hidden behind stack of boxes. Trying to be _with_ her was a dangerous game with your heart, but it was one you were willing to play. It was that day, sitting at Harper´s kitchen table, that you realized that this, that _she_ , was it if you wanted her to be it. 

You carefully close the door and move back to the couch. The TV is on mute, and a rerun of The Kardashians is on. You´ve got your laptop out with the inventory of the music store. Your credentials of working with management back in London made it quite easy to find work and luckily a spot opened up in a store on campus. You´ve almost gone through the whole list when you catch the movement in the corner of your eye.

Your eyes take in the sight of Clarke in her underwear and your blue jumper. Her blonde hair is messy and her blue eyes barely opened enough for her to see where she's going.

“Hey”, you speak softly when she approaches the couch. She hums in response and slumps down next to you, she slips down until she´s laying down, taking up the rest of the couch, with her head now in your lap. “Hungover?”, you ask, remembering that she has a tendency to get extra needy when she's hungover.

“No”, comes her answer and it´s followed by a deep sigh.

You readjust to give her some more space and she presses her face into your stomach.

It´s in her silence that you hear her the best.

You get through the rest of the list, although one of your hands is preoccupied with massaging Clarke´s scalp and it's moments like this that you know you'll never get enough of or get used to.

//

You wake to the sound of Raven´s husky voice. It´s low and out of reach. The light is not as bright as you thought it would be and you're able to open your eyes wide. Once you look around the memory of you getting out of bed and then falling asleep on the couch next to Raven finds you. Her couch is much more comfortable than yours. And _she´s_ much more comfortable than any bed.

“Yeah, Friday works for me. I´ll check with Clarke. Sure”, Raven´s voice grows clearer with every word and when you sit up you see her exiting the kitchen. Her eyes meet you, bright and brown, deep and warm. “That sounds great. Tell Octavia I´ll call her later”, she continues. “Will do. Bye”. She places the phone on the living room table on her way over to the couch.

“Lincoln?”, you ask with a hoarse voice. She nods and sits down next to you, one hand immediately starting to rub over your back. “Everything okay?”.

“Yeah”, she answers and presses a lingering kiss to your temple. “He wanted to make sure that you made it home okay since Octavia showed up alone last night”. There's no judgment in her voice, only love and warmth.

You lean over your knees, head propped up in your hands. The thumping pain in the back of your head causes you to grunt low. How you always end up like this is not that much of a mystery, but since it only happens once or twice a year it´s okay. Finals have a way getting you worked up and a good way to let it go is to literally let loose.

Turning up here though, wasn't the plan.

You tilt your head to the side to be able to look at her. The smile on her lips is tender and the way her hand is still rubbing your back intensifies the feeling of being safe. “Sorry”, you whisper and she shakes her head ever so slightly.

“You're always welcomed here, babe”.

It´s not that you don't believe her. You can't screw this up again is all. Now when she's here and she´s _yours_ you don't want to become too much too fast. The fear of losing what the two of you have has your heart in a death grip. No matter how many times she tells you she loves you, that she´s doing this for herself and not you, you can't shake the feeling that you might mess this up. 

Her hand stops at the small of your back, her fingers move the fabric out of the way until she can place her whole hand onto your skin. She draws small circles into your back, making them bigger by each new circle. The tension that has been building up in your core slowly dissolves under her fingers. She nudges your shoulder with her nose and you lift your gaze up to hers from where it had fallen down to her lap.

“It´s okay”, she murmurs.

Just like that, you believe that she knows you better than everyone else. Possibly even better than Lexa. Whatever kind of sixth sense those two women possess, they seem to be able to read you even when you do nothing at all. 

You sigh deeply and sit back up straight. Letting go of the fear if only so for this small moment.

“What time is it?”.

“Well after lunch. I made some coffee, and I think there's some leftover pizza from when Monty was here”, she replies with a hint of a laughter on her voice. You grimace at the word pizza, not that you're a picky eater, it's that it´s over a week old if Raven´s right. She reaches up with her hand and brushes her thumb over your cheek. “Or I could cook something up”, she proposes and you lick your lips.

“I´ll have the coffee”.

She laughs as you get up from the couch. “I´ve gotten better”.

“I know”, you yell back from the kitchen. “Still not eatable though”.

You hear her overdramatic gasp. “Watch it”, she warns and your smile is full when you return to the couch. Raven is now playing mindlessly on her guitar, fingers moving with ease between the strings. You lean back against the other armrest, legs folded underneath you, cup in hand and eyes watching her playing. She only glances up at you for a short moment after you've tasted the coffee. “Good?”, she asks with her fingers manipulating the strings effortlessly.

“Mhm, just what I needed”. A smile fills up her lips and the sight of it causes your heart to jump. You could sit here watching her for hours, just listening and enjoying every sound she makes. “You owe me a guitar lesson”, you blurt out without thinking.

She stops playing and looks up to meet your eyes. “I do, don't I”, she says, probably remembering the same night that you do. The one in late November when you jokingly asked her to teach you how to play _Between The Bars_ by Elliott Smith, only you didn't have a guitar yourself so it was no point learning then. You put down your cup and sit back down with your legs crossed. She eyes you quietly, until you raise your eyebrows at her. “You want it now?”.

You nod.

“Alright, here you go. Place your finger around the neck, relaxed, and keep the body slightly tilted”, she says as she hand you the guitar.

You do as she instructs. “Like this?”.

She nods encouragingly. “Yeah, this way you can easily see what you’re doing. Do you remember how to do a C?”.

You bite your lips, eyes fixated at the strings, but you can't even see the disposition of the fingers in front of you. So you shake head.

Soft laughter meets you and draws your eyes back up to hers. “Okay, I'll show you. Keep your fingers like this”.

She teaches you a handful of chords. You even manage to string a few of them together in what _almost_ sounds like a melody. And her smile is blinding. And the tug at your chest leaves you breathless at times. _She_ leaves you breathless. You're back to watching her play, this time you're supposed to learn by example, but the only thing you're watching is her full lips.

“I like it better when you play”, you tell her, readying your arm to push yourself forward.

“I don´t”, she answer with that sweet voice. You push forward, leaving your spot at the other end of the couch and crawls over to her side. You position yourself next to her carefully, your knee pressing into her thigh and with the hand you're not holding onto the back of the couch you follow the lines of her arm. You notice the pull at the corner of her mouth. “Clarke, what are you doing?”, she asks without withdrawing her arm. She continues to play the strings with your fingers brushing up and down her forearm.

“Playing”.

She huffs quietly, cheeks starting to take on a redder shade. “I thought you wanted a guitar lesson?”.

“Yeah, I did. Now I want you”, you husk as you interlace your fingers with hers, this interrupts her playing and she looks up at you now. Her brow eyes are tainted with the same lust you feel burning inside you. Those deep eyes flicker down to your mouth, sending electric shocks through your body, when they return to your gaze they have been filled with playfulness. 

“No ‘please’?”.

You watch her for a moment before reaching over to grab the neck of the guitar. Once you moved it down to the floor you take its place in her lap, straddling her slowly until your weight is distributed onto both her knees. With smooth fingers you pull her hair out of her usual ponytail, her hair falls down over her shoulders and you run through it several times before entangling your finger deep into its roots. A gentle pull forces her to tilt her head back and your eyes meet once again.

You can't ever imagine this changing. The wanting. The need of having her in your arms.

(It won´t. For neither of you.) 

You capture her full lips in a slow kiss. Without deepening it you rock your hips forward ever so slowly once. The rough noise she makes in the back of her throat sparks that lust into a life threatening fire within you. You take the momentum and brush your tongue over her bottom lip, when you slip past her lips you rock your hips forward once more. This time fast and hard. Her hands grip at your sides, fingers pressing harder into your sin by every move of your mouth.

It´s breath-taking. _She´s_ breath-taking.

Parting from her lips you press your forehead against hers. Her breath is ragged and shallow. Her hands now moving behind your back to lock there.

“ _Please_ ”, you mouth into a quiet whisper.

You only manage to see the glimpse of the smile forming on her lips before she presses it to your mouth. Happiness has never tasted as good as it does on her tongue. Only the sound of her gasp when you press into each other is as satisfactory. You make quick work of the jumper and her top, leaving her in only her bra and you in nothing to cover your upper body.

Her hands roam over your back, nails scratching over your shoulders and down over your sides. Your mouth breaks away from hers to give your screaming lungs some peace, only she takes it as an invite to attack you neck and so she does. And she draws a guttural sound from within you when her teeth nip at you sensitive skin. If you knew any better you´d tell her to be careful not to leave any marks. But you don´t care. She can mark you all she wants. Hell, you want her to. That way everyone will knows that you're hers.

The first time you slept together it wasn't awkward in that sense. It was fumbling and laughing, moaning, pulling and pushing. You didn't think that much about expectations or not being good enough, that hit you afterwards (she quickly cleansed your mind of those thoughts). She had long before shared her feelings on her brace and the awkwardness she had experienced in the heat of the moment. You were glad that you've gotten that out of the way, and that she showed no signs of feeling that way once you found yourself in that moment. Nor during or after.

There's no awkwardness this time either.

She has you flipped on your back when she undresses, eyes roaming your body, and god, you feel like she's actually touching you with her eyes. The vibrating beneath your skin is unbearable and so good. You´ve kept your hands at your sides, innocently not moving them to where you desperately need to be touched, but with those brown eyes moving up and down your body they start to brush over your skin on their own accord. 

Heat burns through your limbs. 

Her eyes are blown wide with lust, and you fixate your gaze on them when you slip one hand beneath the waistband of your underwear, the other hand massaging your breast. Her eyes flicker down and you can hear the audible hitch in her breath.

“You're eager, aren't you”, she murmurs as she leans down to kneel in between your legs.

You huff, unable to actually speak without letting on how desperately you need her touch. The smile on her lips is wicked. Her hands run from your toes up to your thighs, and it´s not enough. It´s _nothing_. She ignores your quiet grunt when she passes your centre without so much as a brush, hands now running up over your stomach.

“Raven”, you warn when she replaces your own hand with hers, now rolling both of your nipples between her fingers.

“Mhm”, she hums without meeting your eyes.

You bite your lip, determined to not give in to the pleasure already, knowing that it will only spur her on further, but that too is a defeat and she leans down to place an opened mouth kiss to your sternum. You shut your eyes together, tightly, focusing on keeping quiet when her mouth moves over to the swell of your breasts. She takes her time, covering every inch before moving onto the other breast. You manage to stay quiet, proudly enough, but when she nips at your nipple you can´t hold back a throaty moan.

“Holding back are we”, she mocks and kisses your collarbone.

“ _Raven_ ”.

You're begging. _Really_ begging. And she has you at her complete disposal.

She hovers over you, eyes finally meeting yours, lips parted, breath hot and heavy. You reach up and cup her face, thumbs brushing over cheekbones. Mixed in with all the lust and craving in those brown eyes of hers you see the love and adoration. And you love her.

“I love you”, you whisper, the tug in your chest pulling with determined force. “I love you”, you repeat and catch the growing smile on her lips with your fingers.

She kisses your fingertips, one after another until she has marked each and every one of them. 

“I know”. You guide her down onto of you, letting your bodies melt together, skin against skin, with your hands cupped around her neck. Her lips are soft and slow against yours, in the beginning. The sweetness of the kiss brings flutters to your stomach and when she pulls back you're left breathless once again. Her eyes are piercing as they take you in. “I love you too, Clarke”, she breathes and the words echo like a promise inside your mind, she seals it with a searing kiss that makes you see stars.

Every move she makes sends shocks through your body. 

Every kiss has you aching for more.

She has you coming undone with her mouth on yours, swallowing every whimper, fingers knuckle deep inside you carrying you over the edge, and she follows with your name spilling from her tongue.

And you love her.

All of her strength, weakness and pure intentions.

(And she loves you all the same.)

\-----

_July_

It's been a little over two months since you moved back. Two months of coffee dates, movie nights and sleepovers. Clarke doesn't have a drawer of her own here, all of the things she´s left over the weeks are mixed with your own. Her place has always been within _your_ place. She´s a part of your day to day life, and when she's not around you miss her in a way you didn´t expect to. Perhaps that's what love does to you.

The thought has been playing on your mind for some time now.

Since before you moved, only then you didn't see a reason to rush. Now, it no longer feels like rushing. Still, there's no guarantees and up until this point everything has been great. Better than great. You wouldn't want to mess that up by proposing something crazy. Not that it would be that crazy. It´s just crazy to think about, because the right answer would change your relationship.

So the thought has remained a though.

Until _now_.

The Breakfast Club is playing and the room smells of coffee and Clarke´s apple scented shampoo. You're propped up against the headboard in bed, your body partially covered by the wrinkly sheets, hair wild and the taste of Clarke still lingering on your lips. It´s a lazy Sunday, you've decided. No work. No ‘have to’'s or musts. All you need is this; tranquillity, coffee and _her_.

The girl with golden hair and ocean blue eyes, who happens to be waltzing around the apartment in her underwear. Or _your_ underwear. It doesn't matter, because it's lazy black underwear and _nothing_ else. The lack of big windows and nearby neighbours is something you're much appreciative of on mornings like this. Also the view from your bed, which in itself would have sold this apartment in the blink of an eye. 

You sip on your coffee, a constant smile on your lips as she struts into the room.

She has her hair up in a loose bun, lips still bruised from earlier this morning and a trail of hickeys stretching from her navel up to her sternum. At least they're easy to cover, you contemplate with a smirk.

“Have you heard back from Anya?”, she asks, back turned to you as she browse through your music collection. It has grown quite a bit over the last year thanks to Miller's interest in old vinyl records.

“Yeah, they'll be back next week”, you reply, placing your cup on the nightstand. “Apparently Lexa has smiled _twice_ so far”.

Clarke sighs, her shoulders slumping down at the sound of her best friend's name. “She´s getting better”.

“She'll be fine, Clarke”, you tell her. “It takes time”.

Seeing Lexa after Costia´s death jolted a lot of memories. Most of them belonged in the deep of the darkness in your mind, buried alongside the lasting grief and sorrow you never dealt with. Coming face to face with that kind of utter heartbreak left you numb and ripped the wounds open again, only this time you had to handle them.

Clarke turns, her own cup of steaming coffee in her hands and a worried look in her eyes.

You smile comfortingly. Both to emphasise what you said and to answer the silent question those blue eyes send you.

It seems to calm her mind and she returns to her seat next to you. You watch her silently watching the TV; how the light reflects in her eyes, the way her lips quirk up at times and how she licks them after drinking from her cup.

Two months.

You can´t wait any longer.

“Move in with me”.

The words leave your lips with ease. Fast. Almost stumbling over each other in excitement. Clarke´s attention swiftly moves over to you. Confusion is written in the look she gives you, like she doesn´t believe what you said, but it quickly fade into a blank expression when you don't back down. Then, a flush of red mark her cheeks and her eyes fill with joy.

“Say that again”, she breathes and you move onto your knees. 

Your hands are on her cheeks, thumbs brushing over the red, eyes locking onto hers, lips parted in a smile.

And you love her.

“Move. In. With. Me”, you repeat in between kisses. Sealing the question with a deeper kiss. She tastes like Clarke and coffee, like home. Like the love you dreamed of all those months away, the same love you dream of every night and wake up to every single morning. She surges forward, lips crashing back onto yours and her hands coming up to cup your face. When she leans back, after bruising your lips numb, her eyes shimmer with tears. And you love her. She caresses your cheeks, eyes unwavering. The tug in your chest forces you to take a breath and the air has never tasted better than shared with her. “Is this a yes?”, you ask when the moment doesn't pass.

She nods, a warm laughter quickly following. 

She kisses you again and whispers, “yes”, against them and that word is all you could have wished for. You pull her into your arms, taking her in whole and still laughing. 

“I love you”.

She scoffs and leans back, tears mark her cheeks and the smile on her lips is strong enough to blind you. And you love her. And you're happy, because she is. 

She shakes her head with that same smile still on her lips. “I love you more”, she tells you and your heart jumps high in your chest.

Impossible, you think and kiss her again

(A few days later, after arranging the troops, and you are carrying Clarke´s stuff up to the apartment a grin shine bright on your face. It only grows wider when Clarke stumbles in through the door, face hidden behind a stack of boxes, and when you rush over to help her she mirrors that same smile.)

//

You stare down at the screen. It´s black. Your reflection stares back at you, it´s indecisive and rather harsh. It would be so simple; all you have to do is unlock it and dial the number you still have memorized.

“Just call her”, you hear Raven telling you from the bathroom and you look up to catch her standing in the door opening, toothbrush in hand and toothpaste foam on her lips.

Your lips quirk up at the sight and she laughs as she continues to brush her teeth.

“You're beautiful”, you reply and she raises her eyebrows.

“Don't change the subject”, she says trying to look fierce, but with all that foam in her mouth her voice comes out incomprehensible.

“I´ll call her tomorrow”.

She rolls her eyes and disappears into the bathroom, you can hear the water running next. She appears as quickly as she went and retakes her place in the door opening. Her eyes are kind when they observe you, perhaps she's looking for something, or waiting for you to say something else. You don´t. And she doesn't find anything in your eyes that wasn't there before.

“Clarke. I admit I wasn't a fan of hers before, but…”, she starts and shrugs her shoulders like she's struggling to find the right words. With a sigh she moves over to you and sits down on the edge of the bed. Her hand reaches out to grab yours and she gently interlaces your fingers together. “Your first instinct was to call her. Not Lexa. Not Octavia”, she continues and those brown eyes of you offer you comfort.

“Because they already know”, you reply and her forehead wrinkle in disbelief. With a squeeze of your hand you tell her, “you know what I mean”.

She only shakes her head and leans in to give you a peck on the lips.

“Call her”, she encourages.

You pout. Deliberately. Only that never works on Raven when you want it to. All it does is make her chuckle and get up from the bed. You groan and force yourself to look back down at the phone. She´s right of course. She has a habit of being right about these things, about _you_. Still, it's not as easy as that no matter how much you´d like it to be.

But it there´s anything the last year has taught you, it is to fight for what you want.

You should make an effort to fight for it.

So you do.

You unlock the phone, a deep breath locked in your chest, and dial the number before you have a chance of backing out. Your other hand is fiddling with the cover, a nervous buzz rumbling through your veins.

 _”Hello?”_.

(It should hurt that she doesn´t recognize your number.)

(It does.)

“Hi mom”, you say, eyes drawn up as by magnetism to find Raven sneaking a peek through the open door, a gentle smile on her lips.

Yeah, she's right about this. And you don't mind it at all.

\-----

 _August_

Clarke´s swinging your arms in between your bodies, fingers perfectly interlaced with yours. She's beautiful, her sun kissed skin in contrast to that flowing white dress. Her hair is out, glowing in the soft light the evening sun offers and your fingers itch with the want of twirling them into those golden locks. You catch the sun reflecting in the blue in her eyes when she turns her head to watch for any cars before she leads you across the street. 

_”I can't figure this bill out, there´s no structure”_ , Bellamy growls in your ear and you can hear him slam the papers down on his desk.

“Yeah, Ivan is never gets the bill right. I bet he flunked math in kindergarten. Atom can take care of it”, you answer, squeezing Clarke´s hand to draw her attention towards the children coming running towards you with ice cream smeared all over their puffy faces.

She smiles, squeezing your hand right back. Her posture is tired, with all right. She's been working nonstop at the Health Centre the last three weeks, and whenever she's not in scrubs she´s at Lexa´s cafe. She's gone through three sketchpads in the last month, each sketch more beautiful than the one before. You try to be there as much as you can, both for her and also for Lexa. The other woman has become one of your closest friends.

It´s funny. A year ago when you first met the enthralling woman that accompanying Clarke to the rehearsal dinner you were jealous. Lexa had this energy about her, the kind that demands the whole room's attention. And she looked at Clarke like it was her job to protect her, like she needed to protect her from _you_. You hated that. And you appreciated the fact that someone had the sense to put themselves in between the two of you. Getting to know Lexa meant getting to know that protective side and see the fragility in it. You learned rather quickly that you had had similar experiences, only she didn't take to running like you did, instead she became more protective. She's kind, wise, gentle and fierce. And she was there for Clarke. 

Lexa is still very much protective, only now it goes both ways.

 _”Okay, well that solves that. Between getting all this done and getting hourly updates from Octavia I don't have much time over to breathe”_ , Bellamy exhales followed by a grunt. You know the work is hard and a lot to take on in the beginning, but you didn't recommend him for the position without reason. He'll get a hang on it, he has to otherwise Wick will find a replacement.

(In a month Bellamy will have doubled their profit _and_ hired a new partner, Gina, to share the responsibilities with.)

(In a year he'll move in with Gina and he'll have forgotten all about Echo.)

“She called me too. She wouldn't stop gushing about the Niagara Falls”. That draws Clarke´s gaze back to you and the happiness in those blue eyes makes your heart soon. “A must go as far as she's concerned”, you say and Clarke nods in agreement.

 _”As long as she's happy”_ , he murmurs, the frustration in his voice completely gone. Although, it only lasts for a moment before he sighs and breathes, _”I should get on this”_.

“Just shoot me a message if you need anything”.

He laughs on the other end and you're glad to hear it, even when it's strained with tiredness. _”You'll jump on a plane and rush over here or what_ , he mocks and you scoff.

“Oh, don´t you worry, I´ve got Harper on speed dial”.

 _”Harper´s a softy”_.

You huff knowingly, that girl could beat the shit out of any man if she needs to. You´ve seen it with your own two eyes.

“In that case I´ll call Anya, she'll gladly kick your ass”, you joke and he makes an exaggerated gasp.

 _”_ Bye _Raven. Take care of my sister, will you”_.

Those words makes your heart skip a beat, knowing that he's not talking about Octavia, and you look over at Clarke. Her own eyes are focused forward and she yawns behind the hand that comes up to cover her mouth.

She's beautiful.

“I will. Love you”, you reply before pressing the red symbol. You slide the phone into your back pocket and then runs that same hand through your hair. You can feel your muscles start to ache comfortably after the long day.

“How´s he doing?”, Clarke asks and your immediate reaction is to sigh.

“Oh you know… he's drowning”, you tell her and she shoots you a worried look, so you squeeze your hand gently as you tug her into your side. “He'll be fine once he get used to the pace”, you say soothingly, knowing from experience that the first time is the hardest, but Bellamy had all the right traits and will make you all proud.

“It was really nice of you to get him that job”.

You shrug your shoulders, brushing your thumb over her knuckles. You can see your building further down the street and that aching feeling increases with each step knowing that you'll soon be sprawled across your bed. 

“I figured I owed him one”.

“What for?”, she asks genuinely and the smile that comes up to play over your lips is grand and glowing. She tilts your head towards you, eyes flickering down to that smile,

“You”.

She pulls the two of you to a stop, eyes narrowing at you. And you can only nod, because it's true in all its cheesiness. She chuckles quietly and reaches up with her free hand to caress your cheek.

“Shut up”, she tells you and quickly presses her lips onto yours.

//

Raven tosses her keys onto the kitchen table and it hits the vase with a rattling sound. One day she'll knock that thing over, you think for yourself as you let yourself fall back first over the armrest of the couch. You land with a huff. Your body has run dry with energy, the last few weeks has been chaotic and wonderful. Working at the Health Centre leaves you exhausted but happy, working with _people_ makes you happy.

Coming home at the end of the day though you don't have much energy left to anything other than possibly dragging yourself into bed. Thankfully Raven has been an angel, she knows how to read you in the blink of an eye and to not pad around you when you're on a mood. 

“Do you want anything? I was think of getting a gin and tonic”, she calls from the kitchen and even though the sound of that sounds lovely, the low buzz in the back of your head is a promise of a banging headache in the morning and that won't improve by alcohol. 

“No I´m good. I´ll just go to bed… if I can get up from here”, you chuckle with your body clearly situated and ready to collapse right here and now.

You hear her before she appears in your periphery. She stops at the end of the couch, her hands brushing over your knees where they´re still flung over the armrest. The way she looks at you makes your chest feel lighter, and your heart swells at the way she smiles without smiling. Those eyes of hers can radiate any and every emotion; right now all you see is heavenly sweet adoration.

“Come here”, she breathes and offers her hands.

She pulls you up into her arms and you can feel your body relax into hers at the contact. Never has another person felt as much as home like she does. 

“You're cosy”, you mumble, your nose nuzzling into the crook of her neck, sleep only an arm's reach away.

She runs her hands over your back soothingly before answering with a tender whisper, “let's get you to bed”.

You let her lead you into the bedroom, hands clutching to her. She sits you down on your side of the bed before moving around the bed to closing the curtains. You can feel her eyes on you as you undress, it´s a light burn over your back and it makes your stomach flutter. It's not an anniversary, not really anyway. Still, this day is special. Even though you haven't discussed it you've both counted down to this day, looking forward to this day, because even though it doesn't mark a special event to _you_ it marks the day you decided to make a change.

The day you decided to try and find each other again.

Laying back on the bed you catch her watching you with those soulful eyes and you're reminded once again of why she is home, because she says it all without saying anything at all. You tuck yourself down, sleep now pressing onto your body like a second set of covers.

“Could you do me a favour?”.

She takes a step forward, her hands holding onto the footboard. “Name it”, she replies and you tilt your head towards the nightstand.

“Check the top drawer in my nightstand”.

She raises her eyebrows in a confused face, the crease between them pulling a smile to your lips. She steps around the bed slowly and sits down next to you. The confusion has by now shifted into curiosity, which of course makes your stomach flutter once again; this time with nerves. You watch as she glances over at the drawer, fingers tapping against the cover beside her, and then how she pulls it out.

“Clarke”, she gasps and pulls out the little black box. “This better not be a ring”, she chuckles and gives you a look of suggestion.

You can´t stop the laughter rolling through your core and she joins, one hand reaching for your own. “Don't test me, Raven Reyes”, you warn her once the laughter dies down enough for you to speak properly. “Open it”, you encourage her and she shifts in her place so that she´s facing you.

Her fingers move slowly over the lid of the box (and you hold your breath). She opens the box and you can't read her expression, fittingly enough. Which of course makes your chest tighten and your legs feel uneasy. It´s when she looks from the box, the jewellery now hanging from her fingers, you notice the shine in your eyes. Tears. It´s tears and there's a whimper on her lips.

She surges forward, lips crashing into yours, moving perfectly in a deep kiss. Your lungs scream for release, but she tastes of heaven and happiness and you never want to let that go. You exhale slowly once she pulls back, your hand shooting up to wipe her cheeks dry from the tears still pouring from the corners of her eyes. 

She breathes out heavily, taking a hold of your hand to kiss your wrist.

“I love it. Thank you”, she sighs with a smile brushing against your skin. She turns the jewellery in her hand, a heart locket with the inscription _‘You are my first pick. Now and forever.’_ on the back. The smile grows bigger for a second then quickly fades as she looks back up to meet your eyes. “I didn´t get you anything”.

The disappointment in her voice is out of place and you take her hand in yours, fingers interlacing with the chin of the necklace entangled in between.

“Sure you did”, you tell her. “I have you”.

She doesn´t answer. Doesn´t make a sound. Instead she puts on the necklace and rolls over your body so that she can lay beside you. Your hands are once again locked together and your thumb is brushing up and down her knuckles comfortingly.

“Any regrets? About this year I mean”, you ask, voice soft and sweet, head tilted to the side so that you can watch her and the corner of her mouth quirks up for a second.

“No”, she answers. Only that smile tells you differently. She turns her head your way, eyes immediately locking onto your gaze. “I should have kissed you when you came running to Lincoln´s apartment”.

The memory of that day flashes before your eyes and your stomach flips. That day it all changed, or at the very least the day you earned the possibility of it changing.

She bites her lip, eyes searching for a reply in your face. You squeeze her hand and moves onto your side so that you can watch her more fully.

“It would have eased my nerves if you had”, you confess. When the words have left your lips you lean forward until they meet hers and she hums into kiss, willingly letting you deepen it for another moment. You lean back ever so slightly, just enough to be able to meet her gaze and take in her whole face. “I'm glad you didn't”, you tell her and she wrinkles her forehead in surprise.

“Really?”.

You nod as you crawl closer under the sheets, your body missing the heat from her body from where she's laying on top of the covers. She unlocks your hands and reaches up to caress your face. And you love her. Totally. Completely. Oh so utterly.

And she loves you too.

“We needed a slow burn”.

(And burn we shall.)

**Author's Note:**

> come share your thoughts on this series at tumblr.inspriation-feeds-creatiivity.com


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